


Between a Rock and a Cold Place

by Anonymous



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Family Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 217,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After two years of running halfway across the world to avoid replacing his mother as Circhester's gym leader, an unexpected tragedy makes Gordie return home, faced with the very real possibility of doing exactly that. Now he has to navigate the new dynamic settling across his family and Galar's Pokemon gym circuit, a lifetime away from the one he remembers.He's certain that he won't be able to maintain what she had built up over the last two decades, but he's also uncomfortably aware that he doesn't have much of a choice.
Comments: 398
Kudos: 372
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has multiple moments of brief body image issues.

Gordie had always been 'too much'. 

As a kid he'd been endlessly told that he was too loud, too unfocused or too boisterous. He'd been more than a handful to raise and there was never a shortage of people reassuring his mom that he would mellow as he got older and a little wiser. Obviously, they must have been horribly mistaken, because he was as grown up as he'd probably ever manage and no one had stopped saying these things, only now they tended to add 'too fat' and ' too cocky' to the mix. 

He'd long accepted they weren't wrong, so how could all his current problems stem from the fact that he wasn't enough? Not strong enough to beat his mom's Pokémon, not patient enough to make her see his point; not brave enough to stay. Not kind enough to check in.

And now he was finally going home, too little too late.

(Guess he was too much after all)

Too stubborn. He and his mom were both that in spades. They hadn’t spoken once since he’d left, both waiting for the other to apologise, until finally she broke the silence. When the phone call had come Gordie definitely hadn’t _expected_ it, but he couldn’t ignore it either.

The reason behind the call had caught him even more off-guard.

Which is how he found himself outside his own front door, as far as this could be called his home anymore; unsure if he should knock like a guest or let himself in like family. Eventually he chooses the former, if only to stop him idling outside like an idiot where anyone could see; though it was already dark out and he was confident he wouldn’t be immediately recognised.

There’s shuffling sounds from behind the door, and it’s almost certainly too late to back down (although he’d probably be able to outrun his mom if it really came down to it). Except the door is already open, and he must be very psyched out right now, because when did that happen?

For the first time in over two years, he is face-to-face with his mother.

Neither can say a word, and the silence (the long-lost peace) between them feels impossibly fragile. Before either of them is able to ruin it, he feels her reach around his middle and pull him in with a surprising strength, like she’s holding him with the force of everything she has.

It should be harder than this he thinks, sinking into the embrace. But it's easy. Easy, warm and achingly familiar; the arguing and the years apart a distant memory right now. Wasn’t it all pointless in retrospect? She needed him, so he was here; wasn’t that how family should work? Not for the first time he reflected that there’s so much more he should have done as a son; _will do_ , he promises himself.

They’re hugging so tightly that he can barely breathe but he manages to choke out an apology, although he wouldn’t have to time to even begin to list what he’s sorry for and it comes out so quietly that even he barely hears it. Sorry for her loss, maybe? Sorry that he wasn’t there?

Sorry he wasted two years when life can be so short?

As far as he can tell, neither of them are crying yet, but he can feel the sting and the pressure of unshed tears building in his eyes. After what feels like an eternity they pull apart, but she keeps a hold on his shoulders; eyes roaming across him, taking stock of all the changes since they'd last seen each other. He knows there’s definitely a lot.

Although, apparently he hadn’t changed as much as her other kids. The last time he had seen the triplets they’d been at the age where they were definitely cute but were kind of indistinguishable blobs. Now, as they rushed into the room Gordie could tell that they were really coming into their own, they looked happy, given the circumstances, and energetic even at this time of night. He didn’t imagine they really got what was going on. 

The trio watched him with trepidation, Pearl clinging to Melony’s leg, while the boys were sizing him up a little further back. Gordie stomach fell as he realised that they didn’t recognise him. They’d been so small when he left, it made sense that he was practically a stranger to them.

It was funny how your world changes even when you try to leave it behind.

Thankfully Opal, who had cautiously entered the room a little afterwards, knew him straight away; offering him a small smile. It was strained, and the poor girl looked tired; clearly she understood the reality of the situation more the younger three.

He and his half-siblings had never been especially close before, he had (if he were totally honest with himself) resented them just a little bit, for growing up with everything he’d never had. Something he felt repulsive for now that they’d lost their father, as if his envy had brought this upon them. 

His mother scooped the unsettled Pearl up into her arms.

"Pearl! You don’t need to be shy; don’t you remember Gordie?" She pointed to him in explanation "He’s your big brother!"

Her voice was upbeat, but it rang hollow and Gordie wondered how much of her grief she had been keeping under wraps around the triplets. All over again he wanted to hug her, to give her the comfort she needed but was giving them instead, stopping himself only because Pearl still looked nervous at his presence.

But if they needed levity, he could do that. Besides, he still had a secret weapon. 

"You, meanies didn’t forget me while I was on holiday did you?" He asked.

There was a degree of recognition coming across their faces now, which was a relief. They may not have been super close before, but the thought of being forgotten by any part of his family stung.

"I guess if you don’t remember me, then you probably don’t want the presents I got you" Their faces lit up as they immediately took the bait. Greedy little buggers.

"Is it sweets?" One of the boys piped up. Mondy, if he recognised him correctly.

(Yes, his mother’s terrible naming was a consistent pattern)

"Nope. Better." He replied.

The trio looked to each other for answers, his mother on the other hand had a rapidly forming expression of horror that made Gordie think she’d figured out exactly what he’d got them.

"I’ll give you a clue." He whipped out the three pokeballs, not really a clue, so much as a demonstration.

"Gordie, you didn’t." Melony said, words laced with dread.

However, the kids were now practically buzzing with excitement; clambering over one another to guess the Pokémon inside. He was willing to consider that a victory, on the whole. It was also possible that he’d originally planned to give these Pokémon to them with the expressed intent of provoking his mother. (Again, he planned all this before her husband had died.)

"You won’t guess them. These are super cool, super rare Pokémon that you can’t find in Galar."

"It’s a Zapdos!" Platty shouted.

Okay, so Platty specifically would probably be disappointed now – but Gordie was still reasonably confident the other two would be excited. He looked to his mother, covertly asking permission to let them out in her house. She didn’t look _as_ angry as he’d expected, and quickly nodded in silent surrender.

He released them, and thankfully the kids were sufficiently busy cooing over the tiny creatures instead of being put out that he hadn’t captured them any legendary Pokémon.

"So, this little guy is Torchic, this is Mudkip and this right here is Treeko." He said, pointing them out as he went along.

"Did you really bring that.., fire-hazard into my house?" Melony asked. 

Gordie knew her decades as an ice trainer had given his Mom just a little grudge against fire-types in general, although she was able to get along well enough with Kabu’s.

"That’s the beauty of it, any fires Torchic starts, Mudkip can extinguish!" He exclaimed, grinning unabashedly. He hoped she could tell there wasn’t any true venom behind his actions.

"These guys are just babies though; I got them from a nice trainer right after they hatched. You’ll have to train them really well before they can do any real damage." 

"Training that will only be allowed to happen outside! Is that clear?"

"Plus, a reliable source told me that every single one of the youngest Pokémon champions, ever, in any region, had a fire, water or grass starter. I'm just setting you guys up for success really." 

"I guess I must have put you at a disadvantage then?" His Mom interjected; smiling wryly. 

"I think I might be _just a bit_ passed my chance for youngest champion; I suppose I'll have to settle for longest reigning instead."

She smiled at that, while the Triplets had stopped paying attention to the conversation entirely; too busy trying to allocate their Pokémon and petting them as carefully as their clumsy hand could manage.

Opal was watching both groups, trying to keep track of all the noise in the room.

"I have one for you too, you know." He addressed her directly, and her gaze quickly shot back to him.

She looked a bit nervous. Gordie knew she wasn’t quite like their mom, or him he supposed, when it came to Pokémon training. He had started properly training with mom when he was years younger than his sister was now; it had been something that had felt totally natural to him even then, and he’d been restless before he’d been given the chance to try. But although Opal had tried a few times in the past, she’d never really taken to it; she didn’t enjoy fighting in general as far as he could tell, and she struggled to connect to a lot of the Pokémon Mom tried pairing her with.

He’d considered finding something different entirely to gift her, but as selfish as it may sound he wanted to be able her something they could both be passionate about; to try and show her how great it felt when you built a Pokémon team you really clicked with.

Luckily, he figured he’d managed to crack it.

A few years ago she’d adopted a Feebas, after a freak incident where an entire school of them invaded the baths in town. She managed to bond more with this weird fish than any other Pokémon she’d met (and Feebas weren’t exactly anyone’s first choice of Pokémon). She’d named it Phoebe with the kind of sincerity only a very young child could muster, and they’d been inseparable since.

Gordie had been very confused until she’d started asking about Prism Scales.

Now that, he could understand easily. He had sometimes felt like the archetypal ‘Ugly Feebas’ growing up, just waiting until he blossomed from beneath his Mother’s shadow. He imagined for the more introverted Opal, living with a larger-than-life presence like Mom, helping something overlooked grow up into something wonderful sounded extremely appealing, maybe more so than just catching a Milotic outright.

Hoping she’d see his attempt in a similar way, Gordie handed her the pokeball to let him out.

"This is a Dratini, I was thinking he could be a good friend for Phoebe – I know he’s little right now, but he evolves into a Pokémon called Dragonair." He explained as she watched the creature wriggling at her feet curiously.

"Dragonairs are actually a lot like Milotics so they’d be like a family, if you want to keep him."

He hoped he wasn't talking down to her, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been forced to hold a conversation with a pre-teen. She'd been so quiet before, so easily spooked. 

Somehow she seemed a little braver, though he didn't really think he'd been back long enough to tell. 

Melony seemed to find the water-type far less offensive than she’d found poor Torchic, cooing over him as Opal nervously but steadily picked him up.

"Do you like him?" He asked.

She nodded, smiling at him in her arms.

"What are you gonna call him?" His Mom asked.

She paused, considering the matter with an endearingly serious expression across her face.

"Hmm… How about Gordie?" 

He had mistakenly thought for a split second that he was asking him to weigh in on a name, before he realised that no, it was much worse, she was giving her Dratini his name.

He supposed he got it, on some level, it wasn't unheard of for people to name their children after the doctor or mid-wife who'd delivered them, and this was sort of in that vein.

Didn't mean that it wasn't a _bad_ idea though. 

Honestly, he shouldn't have given any of the kids naming privileges he knew, after hearing off-hand the newly christened Flame, Squirty and Leafman from the triplets; and Gordie? He struggled to imagine a Pokémon less like him than a Dratini. 

But Opal seemed happy enough with the name, and with the apparent Gordie Jr himself. She rushed upstairs, briefly explaining she was going to introduce Gordie to Phoebe. At least his gifts had been well received so far.

"Those were very thoughtful of you Gordie. I’ll make sure they remember to actually thank you for them later." Melony said, smiling. "It’s a shame that they're not league legal,"

"I actually have one for you too Mom." He interrupted, reaching for the last pokeball.

She seemed genuinely surprised to hear him say it, and Gordie (once again) felt a deep pang of guilt that they'd parted on such bad terms. He'd been feeling a lot of that, but until now he hadn't been ready to do anything to fix it. (Far too stubborn). 

Granted, he did still want to mess with her a bit first. 

"Found you a very cute Vulpix."

"Is this your "subtle" way of telling me I need to branch out a little?" She asked, eyebrows raised, not quite in disgust, but with a clear measure of disapproval. 

He gasped deeply, clutching his chest in mock horror 

"Never! I wouldn't get in the way of decades of cultivated style, I'm not a monster!" He was laying it on thick, he knew, but his excitement for her reaction was getting the better of him. Besides, they needed some levity.

"Let him out, I promise you won't be able to resist him." He slid the ball into her hand, feeling like a child again, desperate to impress her in their earliest battles. Except he knew for a fact he'd already won this one. 

Before his time away he'd never even heard of the Alolan Vulpix, and from the look on his mother's face as she laid eyes on this one, she hadn't either – or at least she'd never seen a real one. Finally the smile on her face looked a little more natural, even if there was still a heavy sadness in her eyes.

"What do you think? These guys can only be found in the Alolan mountains, you should see the nine-tails that live there with them, they're something else. In fact, I probably have an ice stone in here somewhere if you want, we can –" 

She cut off his rambling by capturing him in another hug, which was good because he’d been quickly falling into old patterns of going far over the top to try and capture her attention and approval.

"I love them, thank you Gordie."

This made it worth it, he thought. When he'd seen them in Alola and immediately thought of his mother it had annoyed him, and he'd known it was stupid to go to such lengths to catch one for a woman he refused to speak to and had made no plans to ever see again. 

He supposed he'd known on some level that he wouldn't have been able to stay away for ever, or he'd hoped at least.

His musing was cut short though, by a shrill shout. 

"Hydro cannon!" Platty yelled, at a very confused and slightly alarmed looking Mudkip.

"Yeah, I don’t think he actually knows that one yet." Gordie answered on the poor Mudkip’s behalf.

It didn’t stop the three of them from continuing to yell out random Pokémon moves that they’d clearly learnt from watching gym battles, though it was actually kind of impressive that they were getting the typings right for the most part. 

"You know you’ve gotten them all really excited right? They’re going to be nightmares to put to bed tonight, maybe gifts should have waited until the morning?" His mom offered.

She was right of course, when bedtime came they were having none of it; far too excited to go to sleep when they should. Eventually they were tucked into bed, but the sounds of them talking reached Gordie and Melony the floor below long after. Opal was quiet, and Gordie assumed that even if she was awake, it was unlikely she’d come back down and disturb them.

The sounds of the triplets keeping each other up slowly drifted off, and as if the silence broke a spell over the house, his Mom’s front finally crumbled. He really couldn’t fathom how she’d been keeping herself so strong this whole time.

She started sobbing, openly but quietly, and he held her tucked into his shoulder, a reversal of their earlier embrace. Gordie hoped that Opal was asleep, he’d hate for her to hear Mom cry and feel powerless to do anything about it. Honestly, he doesn’t really know what he can do to make it better himself.

He hates himself a little bit that he doesn’t feel this way too, he and his stepdad hadn’t had any problems with each other, they just hadn’t had much of a relationship at all. Gordie had felt he was much too old to need a dad when he entered his life and he imagined his stepdad had agreed. It had already been established he was too much of everything as a child, why would anyone want to take him on?

If deep down he’d felt left out by the lack of attention, it was something his moody teenage mind had never thought worth addressing.

Gordie wishes he’d made more of an effort, with him and his siblings. His Mom deserved a real, cohesive family after all this time; and now they’d lost the chance forever. But at least he could be here for her after the fact, as pathetic a solace as it was. 

"How are you holding up?" It’s a stupid question, but he hasn’t been around much (at all) these last few years to know the particulars of her situation, and what this really meant for her.

Unsurprisingly, his mom was, in fact, not okay.

It had been sudden, and completely unexpected, she explained. His stepdad had been a bit older than his mom, but 44 wasn’t the sort of age where you can comprehend someone just dropping dead. She’d been holding it together for the kids, saying that the little three knew that he was gone but they didn’t get that he wasn’t coming back, so if they were surrounded by grief they wouldn’t be able to understand why.

She’d closed the gym and funeral arrangements were being finalised. She needed someone to look after the triplets at home during the service. He offered, trying to be helpful.

Apparently it was the wrong thing to do, she looked genuinely hurt that he didn’t want to pay respects, and he was abruptly reminded that there was still a lot of unresolved distance and conflict between them. Neither wanting to address it she accepted his offer anyway and thanked him.

He let her do most of the talking, venting all the things that she couldn’t say to the other kids, or anywhere in public where there was always someone trying to get an angle on what happened.

He was glad that even with everything between them she was still telling him how she felt. Growing up he’d always been her confidant and he was glad that hadn’t had to change, unlike seemingly everything else in his life.

Granted back then, once he realised other mothers didn’t tell all their secrets and problems to their children he’d sometimes wished she’d act more like a ‘proper mom’, having all the answers and no questions of her own. He hadn’t got why his mom was so ‘different’ to other ones, didn’t understand that his Mom was so very young too, and still doing a lot of growing up herself.

He hoped more than anything that now he was a little older, he had a bit more empathy and understanding to give than he had in the past. Maybe he’d even have a few answers for her, though he knew that was unlikely 

"Okay, now it’s probably time to ask the important question." She said, resigned.

He knew that this was coming. She wouldn’t want to go back to the gym straight away, and she had made it abundantly clear (and stuck to it) that no one but him would suffice. Most likely thing is that he’s already agreed, having come home in the place.

"What did you do to your beautiful hair! Why is it so… yellow?"

Oh thank Arceus, he could tell they were deliberately avoiding talking about their biggest issue. But he’d take feigning ignorance over an uncomfortable conversation any day.

"Got into a nasty fight with a Yamper. I lost, obviously." He replied, waiting for laughter (or groans) before continuing. "Aren’t you a fan Mom? It’s not even styled right now! I’m excited to see what you think of the finished product."

"Why are you saying that like it’s a threat?" She seemed genuinely amused for the first time tonight, and he couldn’t help but think that was progress.

"Nah, trust me. You’re gonna love it."

Some of the tension between them had broken and they spent the next couple of hours catching up on the little things, how things have changed in Galar since he left; his favourite things he encountered travelling; how his siblings were doing. Neutral topics, both of them wary of breaking the peace with the more contentious parts of their past.

He wishes they could just pretend none of it existed, just continue playing at normal mother and son, who didn’t argue and have town dividing Pokémon battles. But there’s a tension building inside him, and he wants to bring it up calmly before he reaches the boiling point instead.

"I think you should re-open the gym, and I’ll cover for you." He said. 

That wasn’t what he’d expected to come out; but apparently his brain and mouth were almost entirely unconnected at this present moment

She hesitated before replying, clearly she hadn’t expected for him to be the one to bring it up, and so plainly.

"I don’t think that’s what you really want though." She finally answered.

Gordie had made it abundantly clear that he wanted the exact opposite of that the last time they fought, but then again she’d made it clear that she wanted to quit to have more time with her children and husband.

He supposed they’d both lost really.

"It’s obvious that things have changed. I really want to try and be more flexible about this."

"But Gordie, I completely get why, given our…history, you wouldn’t want to do this. Don’t force yourself for me. I will respect your choice and find someone else who can take it over, I was just being stubborn before."

"I want to do it! After everything that’s happened I want you to focus on yourself instead of work, and I know how much it means to you. I’m honestly flattered that you trust me with this."

He tries to imagine if he’d said yes two years ago instead, if he’d granted his mother the luxury of spending more time with her husband over that time, a chance that she’d never get again. The regret, the shameful guilt makes his chest tighten, even though logically he knew there was no way of knowing this would happen. 

Even if he doesn’t necessarily want to do it, he doesn’t want to feel like this anymore and it’s the only way to assuage the feeling he can think of. 

"Besides we’d have until the next league challenge season to make any final decisions right? That’s plenty of time for me to at least give it a try, if it’s not for me we can find your successor while I’m covering."

She watched him very closely, and he feels strangely exposed even though her eyes are kind. Her expression is inscrutable, but if he had to guess he’d say there’s something a little sad about it.

"Gordie, when did you get so grown up?" She asked, and it was definitely a first (from anyone).

He just laughs, too embarrassed to actually formulate an answer. 

His Mom sighed, she still seems very tired, but her eyes look a little lighter than they had earlier that evening, he’s glad she’s been able to get some of it off of her chest.

"I think I’m gonna get some sleep. It’s been… a day. Are you coming up?"

"Is my room -?" He trailed off lamely, not knowing how to ask if he even still _had_ a bedroom.

"Exactly how you left it." She said lightly, belying the implications of that. "Try and get some rest. Bet you’re dead on your feet, you’ve travelled pretty far today."

That was one way of putting it, he may have crossed regions, but it was important to remember that they'd both severed a silence several years in the making. 

"Night, Mom." He said, having no words that could convey all that.

"Goodnight Gordie, I love you."

"I love you too… I’m sorry that I didn’t come back sooner."

In spite of everything, he found that it was true. It was easier to say than he'd expected too; if his love could provide his mother any comfort right now then he had no power to withhold it. 

"It doesn’t matter now; it’s good to have you home Snowball." She said, kissing his cheek as she left, while he forced himself to not cringe at the nickname. 

Gordie knew that she didn't mean anything by it, but it was an acute reminder that he'd come home... _rounder_ than he'd left; unmentioned but obviously not unnoticed. Normally he'd shrug it off, but right now it felt like yet another reason not to open himself up to the scrutiny of the whole Galar region by becoming her gym leader replacement. 

He knew how some people could be, had watched his mom put up with it for years, which considering he was now much bigger than her (and Arceus, wasn't it pathetic to use your mom as a 'fat-scale' in the first place), boded poorly. Because yeah, he could deal with unpleasantness, but brushing aside individual jibes was different to being poked at by literally the entirety of Galar. 

Of course this was on top of the fact that he’d be replacing one of the longest reigning and most popular gym leaders (who he _lost_ tothe last time they fought), and that he’d spent two entire years escaping from the fact she wanted him to take over, all for nothing. Oh, and that he’d completely overhauled his Pokémon team, switching to focus on rock-types instead of the ice-types he’d been raised fighting with, which definitely wouldn’t go over well at the gym.

His heart wouldn’t be able to take not helping her out right now, but it didn’t change the fact that deep down, he knew he wasn’t ready. 

Which was unfortunately irrelevant, because he’d already agreed and wasn’t about to back down.

He gathered himself and made his way up to his room; it was unchanged, like she’d promised. Scatterings of his past, photographs, trophies and other knick-knacks that hadn’t been important enough to take with him surrounded him and it was off-putting how detached it all felt from the current state of his life. Lit only by the moonlight coming through the window and with a coat of dust over the majority of the room, the space managed to look haunted, like it was empty by design and he was un-welcome here now that he’d returned. He got into his bed anyway, the covers of which were fresh, thankfully.

Stewing on the issues surrounding what his mother was asking of him, he slowly drifted into an unsettled sleep.

All of this was just too much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! I'm having feelings about minor characters from a Pokemon game so I guess this is happening in my life now.
> 
> Also, Gordie does not know nearly as much about Non-Galar Pokemon as he thinks he does, not limited to that he has no idea that a Dragonite is a thing and a few years down the line he's going to be extremely confused when Opal manages to evolve her Dragonair into one.


	2. Family Matters (Do you treat it so?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family day out is the perfect way to forget about the things that are troubling you.
> 
> Unless of course, the things that are troubling you are family.

Galar was truly the only place in the world you could wake up to a proper cuppa Gordie mused, nursing his drink and letting the warmth of the mug soak into his stiff fingers.

He’d woken up at a ridiculous hour of the morning, his body racing to acclimatise to yet another time-zone, and even after doing his hair (which had carved away a more than decent chunk of time) he was still the only one up when he made his way to the kitchen.

Too preoccupied by getting back quickly, he had barely eaten yesterday. But he felt uncomfortable at the prospect of rooting through his mother’s fridge or cupboards in search of food while she was asleep. Nothing within the house felt like he had any right to it.

Until he’d spotted an old mug; a gift from many, many years back with so much worn from the design that he could barely remember what it was meant to be. It had been familiar enough that he felt safe making a cup of tea at the very least; only he’d managed to instead spend the better part of 10 minutes haphazardly finding everything for it, after looking where everything _should_ be but wasn’t. 

The worst offender? He’d opened the tin for teabags, only to be assaulted by coffee granules instead. He had never known his mom to drink it and he couldn’t fathom why he was suddenly so bothered by the thought she might have started in his absence. Were they a coffee family now? Was this what they had come to?

Out of curiosity (or more honestly, boredom) he decided to check the current weather here against that of Akala, mournful of the sunshine he’d left behind. The early settlers here had definitely had the right idea with the heated baths.

He tried to enjoy the peace of the morning but found it difficult to push down the melancholy that had overtaken him last night after realising how changed or forgotten everything here was.

He’d lost track of time before the sound of footfalls on the stairs drifted into the room and he carefully tried to school his expression into something a bit more casual and cheerful. His mom appeared in the doorway, which is who he'd expected; he imagined the kids had been properly tuckered out from all the excitement last night.

"Early start?" She asked.

"Mhm. I think I’m still running on Alolan time." He replied wryly.

"Did you manage to settle in and sleep alright?" She looked concerned.

"Yeah. I just need to ride out the lag I reckon."

They kept to tired small talk, safe territory, while she poured herself a drink (Tea not coffee, he noted) and offered him a re-fill.

She was watching him closely as they chatted, scrutiny written in her features and he felt uncomfortably exposed. On top of being overtired, he hadn’t changed from last night’s clothes, and he imagined he looked shabbier than she’d seen him in a long time. Not that he had that many other options; he’d left a lot of his stuff where he’d been staying for the sake of expediency and he didn’t have a remote hope of fitting into the old clothes he’d left here.

"You’re staring." He said, wanting to get whatever was on her mind out in the open.

"You weren’t exaggerating about the hair, huh?" She offered.

Oh yeah. That.

That made more sense, his mother had the tendency to be hard on him, but she was never actively cruel, or judgemental, and surely not about something like this. Besides, the reaction made sense; to a certain extent his hair had been specifically designed as an act of rebellion. (Never mind that he’d not been brave enough to do anything to it until he’d already left.)

"What do you think of it?’"

"I actually like it." She said, with a smile that looked genuine enough. An unexpected answer, but not unwelcome; she was never one to mince words for feelings’ sake. His incredulity must have shown on his face because she continued.

"It suits you! You’ve got that whole artfully messy thing going on."

(Maybe she had noticed he was looking a little less put-together after all.)

Still, after that she didn’t have anything else to say about his current appearance and he didn’t notice any continued staring, for which he was glad. Slowly, he managed to relax, as they carried on catching up on the time they’d been apart.

He even brought out his phone to show her through some of the pictures he’d taken during his travels, even the somewhat cheesy selfies chronicling the people he’d gotten to know. She mentioned that Kabu might be interested in seeing the Hoenn ones himself, having not visited his own home in many years.

Gordie was somewhat nervous at the prospect. He knew he’d almost certainly be accosted by Opal when he brought the triplets to the reception (He and his mother had agreed that they should attend, even if not the main service), but Kabu generally kept to himself. Except now, his mother would probably tell him about the photos and give him incentive to strike up a conversation.

It wasn’t that he had a problem with either of the gym leaders, in fact they’d been a fairly formative part of his childhood; he was just…apprehensive. He’d basically broken his mother’s heart in their last argument, and that entire situation had ended just terribly. The pair were close to his mom and although they’d been fond of him growing up he wasn’t sure how they felt about him now, as someone who had inadvertently hurt her, especially when the wound was still raw after his stepfather’s death.

Plus, it wasn’t as if he’d managed to do anything valuable in the meantime, so he was somewhat dreading anyone asking about what he’d done on his travels, even politely.

Eventually Melony seemed to decide that the others had been sleeping long enough and asked him to wake them up while she got a start on breakfast. He felt awkward barging into their rooms, but his attempts at knocking on their doors had been unsuccessful, apparently unlike mom and him, these guys weren’t early risers. They didn’t seem as offended by intrusion as he’d thought they’d be however, not quite used to his presence, but not wary of it either.

Alolans definitely had better cuisine, but this was a proper family style breakfast and Gordie couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken part in one, having spent the last two years being an interloper in other families’ lives, or alternatively, completely alone. After they’d finished he offered to wash up, trying to do all the dutiful son tasks he’d probably until now built a lifetime deficit for.

Meanwhile the triplets had made their way into the living room to watch some cartoon or another, which mom had explained to him they watched religiously. He could see them through the doorway, huddled together on the settee. Opal sat on the other seat and looked to be intermittently watching the show while trying her hardest to pretend she wasn’t doing so.

His m om seemed to enjoy the brief peace it granted her; he could see how easy it was for the others to seem so okay despite what had happened. When his mother took charge of situations it was very easy to believe everything was alright himself, even though he should know much better. But now that they were alone once more, it was clear to see that the morning had been a struggle. He made his way over to her.

"How long will they be occupied?" He asked, quietly so they wouldn’t hear him. Though as engrossed as they were it was unlikely anyway.

"A couple of hours usually. Why?"

"I was thinking I could get these guys out of your hair for a while today, a little break. You know?"

For a moment she seemed to look through him, expression worried instead of relieved like he’d assumed it would be. Apparently him putting his foot in his mouth was going to be a running theme, because, try as he might, he could not figure out the right ways to help her.

Thankfully she quickly regained herself.

"I think… I’d rather not be alone right now. Lots of thoughts, you know?" She answered, without elaborating exactly what thoughts she meant. "Did you have something planned?"

He supposed she’d rather be sad with happy children, that sad with only her own company to remind her exactly what she was missing.

"Nothing concrete, but I was thinking it looks like a nice day. Could take them out and show them how to train their Pokémon while they still remember they exist."

Her expression softened, and she looked towards her younger children in the next room. Before directing a covert smile at him.

"I think you might be on to something; and as I recall, last night you said something about teaching the same sort of thing to another group of students…"

That was a definite thing that had happened, in spite of all his common sense.

"You’re not wrong. I suppose this is a good audition of sorts then, see how much luck I have teaching these three before moving on to a proper class." He said.

"Ah Gordie, I think you’ve gotten that mixed up. Get these three to concentrate, manage to teach them anything in fact, and I promise you, no class will ever be a challenge again." She replied with a quiet laugh.

As was quickly becoming a pattern when it came to his half-siblings, his mom was entirely correct. Which he knew was natural considering she spent the majority of their lives with them, while he conversely had run off for years on top of already being a… not fantastic half-brother. He still didn’t need to like how smug it made her though.

They brought them to a park, built with lots of space and relatively few destructible surroundings, intended for the very purpose they were going to use it for. Or, that he was _trying_ to use it for, try being the operative term.

It had started off well, against all his expectations, the three of them managing to pay attention to his discussion of their Pokémon’s individual nature’s and how they could get the best out of them. They’d even been able to command their Pokémon to growl a few times. However, when he began the discussion of looking after and bonding with their Pokémon, it was clear that the triplets were becoming distracted.

"Can you do a handstand?" Platty asked, blissfully unconcerned with his complete non-sequitur.

"Can _I_ do one?" Gordie replied, unsure what to say to Platty’s bizarre question and innocent nods of confirmation.

"Well, I haven’t er, tried, in a long time. But I used to be able to. Maybe we can try it out someplace later where the ground is… less dangerous." He hoped that would be sufficient an answer.

Unfortunately it was not.

"Can Flame do one?" He asked again, this time directing his attention to his Torchic. 

"Platty, Flame doesn’t exactly… have hands? So… no. I don’t think he can do handstands."

His expression suddenly turned downcast at the revelation.

"Why are you wondering about that anyway?" Gordie continued.

Which really, was his biggest mistake.

"I want to join the circus with him!"

"The circus?" He asked, although Platty didn’t pick up on his sardonic tone. 

"Yep! Mom said you used to do a lot of that sort of stuff, I wanted to see if you could teach us! But you don’t think he’d be able to do it?"

It was strange, thinking that she had spoken about him while he was gone; told them stories about him. He’d always be reluctant to talk about family when he’d been away. Gordie was completely uncertain on what was the appropriate course of action here.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to dissuade him.

"Well, Combuskens have hands, so maybe we try to help him evolve first and then we’ll be able to teach him?"

"That will take ages though!"

"Well you’d have to learn too anyway." He reasoned, finally bringing a tentative end to the weird line of questioning.

One which was, he discovered, the first of many directed to him from all of his half-siblings. 

After being asked where exactly inside of Pokémon the physical disks of TMs went when they were being used Gordie knew he wanted to stop questions for the day.

Or the remainder of his life, preferably.

They stopped for lunch around that time, and it was domestic in a way that made his heart ache if only for a second. His mom clearly catching on to the fact he was starting to get worn out from their distractions and questioning. He was glad for the respite, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet, he just needed something they found more interesting than their strange observations about things he had learnt to take for granted.

The answer was simple of course, distract them by giving them something to hit. Unfortunately, his old Pokémon team were currently stored in the PC, and the majority of his current team might be a tad…intimidating to three very young children; he maintained that all rock types were beautiful, precious and deserving of love, but he knew that they could frighten some people.

Rock-types could also reveal to your mother that you had just so happened to replace your entire Pokémon team with Pokémon that her team were weak to. He could admit this only happened under very specific circumstances, and also definitely only occurred due to coincidence with absolutely no sub-conscious bias at all.

(Yeah right.)

He reckoned his best bet were his freshly caught Binacle, or his Shuckle.

Actually no. With foresight he was immediately grateful for, he realised that he’d definitely be asked about Binacle’s capability for handstands if he brought him out, him being basically nothing except hands after all.

But Shuckle was cute, there was absolutely no chance they’d be frightened of it and he could easily explain his inclusion in his party as having come across him in the wild and being too charmed to not catch him.

"Okay! Who wants to try out attacking?" He announced, promptly ending lunch. 

Three pairs of eyes were suddenly watching him with rapt attention, well six pairs really; their Pokémon already learning to respond to their trainer’s intentions.

He tossed the ball far into the air, releasing Shuckle as he launched and letting him spin almost to the ground before exiting his shell to stick the landing. A bit dramatic, he knew, but their enthusiasm was infectious. Besides, he’d never been ashamed to acknowledge he was a show-off, a bit of theatrics kept things interesting. 

"Here’s how it goes, you’re gonna have to get your Pokémon to scratch, tackle or pound our friend Shuckle here – you’ve got to remember which one they know, and get them to listen to you and perform it." He explained.

"What if we hurt him?"

It was endearing that they had been so eager to fight and were now suddenly concerned about harming another Pokémon when faced with the opportunity to do so, especially with something as meagre as a tackle (although he wasn’t exactly going to tell a child that).

"Don’t worry, he’s tougher than he looks. He can take it." He reassured them instead.

With something active to focus on, this portion of their impromptu lesson actually went surprisingly well, the triplets managing to land some solid hits on Shuckle (to very little damage, but Gordie still owed him something nice for putting up with it) and even Opal joined in at some points, quietly focused on training her Dratini.

His mom didn’t say anything about him suddenly having a rock-type Pokémon on hand, but he supposed he’d brought them so many different ones from various regions that she must have thought he’d gotten him for a similar purpose.

It was the early afternoon when she said they should start winding up for the day, the time had flown by which surprised Gordie. The whole experience had been unexpectedly painless, and actively _fun_ he was willing to admit.

What a shame he couldn’t enjoy it without a steady undercurrent of guilt, unable to recall ever taking such an active role with his half-siblings. Who was to say they couldn’t have had countless days like this in the past if he had?

He supposed they’d have to settle by making a multitude of them in the future.

"Gordie, you ready?" Melony asked, interrupting his introspection.

"Head back without me, I have to go get some clothes. My others are being sent over from where I was staying, but I need more than one outfit in the meantime." He explained.

He started sorting through things he didn’t want to lug to main street, thinking he’d probably look bizarre being caught with an entire party of Pokémon in a shop.

He kept Pupitar on him however, knowing that it never hurt to be careful. 

"You mind taking these back?" He asked his mom, motioning the bag of supplies and the Pokémon he’d brought just in case for the lesson. (He really hadn’t known how it would go.)

She took it and, as always, he was always impressed by how much she could carry like it was nothing. Must be a having triplets thing, he mused.

He reckoned after adopting his more... rocky children he'd gotten stronger too. 

"Can I come with you?" Opal asked. Unexpected considering how little she had spoken today so far.

"Do you need something too?" Melony asked.

"I wanna get little Gordie a scarf!" She explained.

She meant the Dratini she was currently holding up, as if to illustrate his tragic, scarf-less state.

Thank Arceus that she hadn’t meant him. This was going to cause long-term confusion though and he once again deeply regretting granting them naming privileges.

"Do you mind taking her Snowball?" His mother asked, and really how could he say no?

In spite of agreeing to do so, he felt incredibly awkward; he hadn’t really spent any time with them without one of their parents acting as a buffer (like, in his entire life) and it was readily apparent as they walked together through the main street that there was a tangible tension between them. 

"Are you really taking over Mum’s gym?" She asked, shattering the silence. 

Bugger.

Either she’d spoken to mom this morning, or the more worrying possibility – she’d heard everything they’d said last night. Including the prolonged crying sessions.

"Temporarily, yeah. We haven’t really decided what we want to do long-term though."

"You said if you didn’t want it you’d find someone else."

Crap. She had definitely been awake, and now she had somehow managed to get him alone? Gordie was mortified by the idea that he’d basically been outwitted and ambushed by a pre-teen, with no apparent escape.

He supposed he could run away to Kanto. But he imagined his mother might very well follow to either drag him home or kill him if he tried pulling that again.

"Well, I, er, gotta be honest. Mom and I have been arguing over it for a long time… It’s never really been my idea of what I wanted to do in life. But I’m willing to give it a try."

"It’s why you came home." She said, no question in her voice, and he could feel this very quickly entering dangerous territory.

"I came home because I was needed." He tried, diplomatically.

"But we don’t need you! You haven’t been here for years and we’ve been just fine!" She shouted back.

Gordie found himself lost for words.

They really hadn’t needed him, he’d already known this, he’d seen evidence of it all around him in the house. It was just a real sucker punch to hear her admit it. Because it wasn’t that they’d stopped needing him once he left.

They’d never needed him. 

People had started to pay attention to the commotion they were making, and Opal clearly noticed; suddenly withdrawing into herself, humiliated at the outburst. He felt pretty much the same, imagining he seemed extremely suspect, currently looking a mess with a furious little girl yelling at him.

He half expected her to leave, to run off back home now that she’d said her piece. Only, she didn’t. If the atmosphere had been awkward before the conversation it was now choking. They reached a clothes store he remembered as being decent and he recalled that she’d come here in the first place to buy stuff for a Pokémon she’d named after him.

That was baffling; suddenly he really hoped that she wasn’t gonna try and drown it or something.

(Could you drown a Dratini? They were water types, right?)

They wordlessly split up, seeking out the aisles they needed, and he was glad for at least a few seconds alone to process exactly what any of that had been. A right mess, was the only answer he managed to reach, aimlessly looking over the clothes for a few outfits that would work.

He grabbed some without too much deliberation, glad he remembered he needed to pick up some black clothes lest he continue to somehow keep hurting everyone who had loved his stepdad.

Right now he didn’t bother trying any of it on, just grabbing the same size he’d bought last time he’d had to replace his wardrobe (and if he cringed a little at the label then there was no one who had to know). He really didn’t fancy staying much longer than he had to after what had gone down with Opal. Gordie wasn’t looking forward to trying them on full stop, if he was honest with himself.

But he’d had enough brutal self-reflection for one day.

He made his way over to the till, spotting Opal and ushering her over on the way, still having nothing to say to one another.

After paying for his stuff he realised he should probably check if she had enough money for what she’d ended up with, a sort of body sock instead of a scarf, clearly intended for roughly Dratini-sized Pokémon.

"You alright for that? Or do you want me to get it?" He asked.

She still looked embarrassed, averting her eyes from his entire vicinity.

"It’s alright… Thank you though." She replied, as politely as he reckoned she could muster.

The walk back was every bit as atrocious, and as soon as they entered she ran upstairs to her room. His mom caught the latter end of her retreat and almost immediately picked up on the strained atmosphere. He didn’t feel adequately able to explain what had gone down so chose to dismiss it as unfamiliarity and stress from everything when she asked.

He really, really needed a shower. Maybe if he managed to wash away the grime of the last few days, he could make it like they’d never happen. Or the last two to ten years, thinking a little more ambitiously.

Turns out that a shower could not, in fact, erase bad days. Yet he was surprised how much better he felt for it, cleaned up (and he wasn’t afraid to admit he’d taken some of his mom’s skincare products, the woman had long perfected her regime) and fresher than he’d felt since he first got the phone call that brought him home. He couldn’t be bothered to re-style his hair, settling for tying it up instead. He slipped on one of the new outfits he’d bought and risked the mirror.

It wasn’t actually a terrible look, he thought, appreciating his reflection. He was very thankful for how much more presentable and just…better overall he felt for having properly cleaned up. The jumper he’d bought clung a bit around his middle and he tried tugging it looser, to no avail; but overall he rated the outfit as a success.

He made his way back to his room and checked through his message. Trying to push the day’s events far from his mind.

Quiet knocks at his door made him think that he was unlikely to succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Him meeting the other gym leaders is definitely a thing that's going to happen, I'm apparently just typing much more than expected. 
> 
> Also the game system for gyms makes next to no sense in a narrative about gym leaders, so I'm kind of adapting in a mix of canons and HC, but that will be more apparent in later chapters.
> 
> I never Beta this stuff, and I'm writing at stupid hours, so if you see any mistakes don't be afraid to point them out.


	3. Come clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretending you can wash away your problems is great, but being honest for once in your life is more rewarding. 
> 
> (Now if only it wasn’t so difficult.)

‘Come in.’ He called out.

There was a delay before the door slowly, softly opened. Opal stood there silently, and he briefly reassessed his priorities; this morning he’d thought that being a coffee family was a low point, turned out it was when you were an adult man afraid of an 11-year-old girl that you’d actually reached rock bottom in your life.

"I wanted…" There was a hitch in her breathing as she spoke and he checked her face in response, finding red blotchiness around her eyes that made him think she’d been crying.

"I wanted to say sorry." She managed.

Had Mom put her up to this? Surely he’d have heard if she’d been yelling or something to make Opal cry, and besides he hadn’t been in the shower that long. He briefly averted his gaze to the landing, and that looked empty, other than Opal herself, so he doubted his Mom was pushing her to do this.

"You don’t need to apologise; you weren’t exactly wrong."

Plus he was willing to cut her more than a little slack, her father had literally died; he was pretty sure you were obligated to not be mad at people for lashing out a little in these situations. Especially when you had made their life plenty difficult in the past.

"But it was a lie! Mum was a wreck when you left, and I couldn’t do anything. And I haven’t been able to do anything this time either!" She was clearly working herself up again and Gordie ushered her into his room hoping to calm her down before their mom really did get involved.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ve done lots for her and just haven’t realised it."

"She never talks to me about it! She always tries to pretend she’s alright and I know she’s not. I’m not either."

Sometimes, it was hard to remember what it was like being her age. Mom had been remarrying around that time when he was. Then she’d been pregnant with Opal not long after, or was that backwards? He’d definitely picked up on and understood more than what the adults around him thought he had, but even so, he figured Opal was bucket loads more observant than he had been.

"You’re the one she tells everything to!"

"Well, I’m a bit older." He tried.

"No! It’s always been like this. We barely saw her until you abandoned her… and you’re still her favourite!" She shouted, as if listing a lifetime of her grievances against him.

It was strange, trying to view the past as Opal may have seen it. He’d always felt like whenever he and Mom were together she was only every trying to push him off to someone else, but he reflected that before she remarried he’d never had to share her with siblings, or partners or even parents.

He’d never really cared what was going on the other side of things when the little ones were born; they had their father, why would they need his mother too when he had no one else?

He felt like a selfish git but then again, he usually did about these things. Such was the beauty of hindsight.

"I can see why it might feel that way, but Opal, me and Mom spent so much time together because I worked at her gym, and she was always trying to get me to take over so she could spend more time with you and your brothers." He admitted, before continuing.

"I’m sorry that I was stubborn. And that I got in the way of you guys… but please don’t ever think that she didn’t want to be with you. Trust me – I was a bad kid to be around, no way was anyone volunteering for extra Gordie-sitting duties"

Yep, he’d really reached the point where he was just dumping all of his insecurities about his childhood on an 11-year-old, turns out rock bottom was getting ever lower.

"And, you have every right to hate me-"

"I don’t hate you." She interrupted. "Mum wants us to be friends, and I want to try! I want to be grown-up about it, for her. I came along to try and be nice, but then all that just slipped out and I already messed it up!"

She wanted to be friends? That had to be a good thing; it made him somewhat less worried about potential murder of the Dratini she’d given his name.

"I don’t think you messed up, I’m glad you’re telling me all of this. I mean, you know the last time I had a familial disagreement I ran away for two years, so you’re doing great in comparison." He said, immediately regretting his timing on the joke, considering the circumstances.

She looked unconvinced, so he continued.

"Look, I know that I acted out a lot, and I stole Mom’s time away, but I promise you that’s not gonna happen this time. I’m taking over the gym so that she can look after you guys. Maybe us three can sit down and talk about where we stand, and how we feel about all this at some point, okay?"

She nodded, watching him cautiously but earnestly, and he was shocked that for once he’d apparently said the right thing.

"Friends?" He offered, knowing she wanted to do so for Mom.

"Friends." She agreed, although the atmosphere between them was still too awkward to attempt a hug, or brotherly shoulder tap.

Was that a thing brothers did? Maybe he’d start watching the little two for pointers.

After that was resolved for the time being, the rest of the day was pleasant enough, finally some peace and normality settling over the house.

He’d been discussing the logistics of covering as gym leader with his Mom, figuring that the years he’d spent as a trainer at her gym would probably reduce the paperwork and training he’d need.

Hopefully, at least.

But they’d agreed that re-opening the gym, and any worries about Pokémon could wait until after the funeral.

Or so he’d thought.

But if his Mother’s Pokémon gym was part of a territory she ruled, sending hapless challengers through her gym mission then her house must surely be an extension of that space, he mused. He had, fallen completely and helplessly into the trap of false security she’d set.

They’d gone out into the garden for hot chocolate once the others were asleep (though tonight he’d had a quick glance towards Opal’s bedroom window for signs she was observing them).

Content to just enjoy the peace and gentle snowfall of the night, which he always thought was easier with a hot drink, he didn’t pay much notice to his mom releasing her newly acquired Vulpix into the garden.

"Let out Shuckle, see if he wants to play." She suggested.

There was… something playing across her features, though he couldn’t guess what for the life of him. He did as she asked, feeling bizarrely like he was walking into a trap, but being unable to detect the danger in this action specifically.

She started cooing over the pair as Shuckle attempted to chase Vulpix, with surprising success considering how unused to the Snow he was, and he found himself smiling along, unable to resist the innate cuteness of his Shuckle. He was proud of his little guy.

Then his mom sent out Binacle to join them.

Which is when he recalled that he’d given into his deepest stupidity, by handing her a bag with the majority of his team in earlier, as if he hadn’t actively been keeping his team a secret from her.

Of course she’d had a look at them.

Now she was outright laughing at him, and he could feel his cheeks burning.

"You look like someone just pulled out dirty magazines from under your bed!" She teased.

That was probably… a fair assessment, he thought. He couldn’t fathom why he was so embarrassed at the thought of her having seen his team?

Binacle was staring at him, confused that another trainer had let him out while his was right there, probably.

"It’s okay, go on – they’re playing over there." He reassured the Pokémon, watching him scuttle off.

He looked to his mother once more.

"You shouldn’t have looked through my stuff!" He defended, feeling like a teenager again.

"I was just trying to sort your empty Pokeballs from your team for you. I admit I got curious, but you hadn’t mentioned anything about your new Pokémon, so I wanted to meet Shuckle’s friends." She was acting the picture of innocence, but he willing to guess she’d known exactly what she was doing.

"Besides, why are you being so shy about them? It’s like you were hiding them from me!"

He was almost certain that she could tell from the expression on his face that he had been, in fact, hiding them from her.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed, apparently victorious in a battle he’d been unaware was happening.

"It wasn’t like that!" He tried to reason, hoping he wouldn’t wake anyone with his volume.

"Then why Gordie? Did you really think I’d have a problem with it?"

That was… an extremely loaded question.

Since the first time she’d ever put a pokeball in his hand (It was a Snom, he remembered, even if he’d been too young to recall much else from that time) she had put heavy expectations on him. Perhaps not even intentionally, but as someone incredibly gifted at battling with Pokémon, in understanding and harnessing their innate gifts, she didn’t always understand and empathise when others couldn’t manage that.

Gordie had managed it, but only ever to a certain extent. When he’d battled in the past, for every part of him that innately got it like she did, there was another part simply copying, and yet another part training until it looked easy, until he’d smoothed out any cracks through which you could see that it was fake. A trainer like a perfect sheet of ice, which is how he’d figured she’d like him best.

But ice is brittle, and defeats were crushing. Melony (always Melony at the gym, never mom) never got it, she didn’t understand why it was different for him, that it was those three parts shattering and falling apart, because it just wasn’t like that for her. He’d never felt like he was worthy of becoming gym leader, doubting that he had that spark which she seemed to possess, but she still wouldn’t budge.

So he fought.

And he lost.

And he left.

Then he found it, that spark. Far too late and in the wrong place.

"I started training my first rock type on a whim." He started explaining, bringing out his Pupitar to show her.

He’d caught it as a Larvitar, maybe motivated a little bit by his bitterness against a lifetime of losing to ice types, but when he started training he’d known straight away that this is how his mother must feel with her Pokémon. It didn’t matter that he’d been training with Pokémon since he could walk, this had felt like the start of an actual Pokémon journey.

It seemed really cheesy, when he tried to put it into words, but he supposed this was the wonderment that children felt when they befriended Pokémon – something that felt just a little too sincere to express as an adult.

"When I started training with him, I just sort of knew that this was what… worked for me. I tried with a bunch of different types afterwards, but I kept coming back to rock ones. It always felt like, 'this is how mom must have felt back home'" He finished lamely.

He supposed in a way, he’d been connecting with her more deeply and sincerely since running away from her, and it had (somewhat pathetically if you asked him) made him feel less alone.

"That sounds really sweet. But why didn’t you want me to know?" She pressed.

"I just thought it would make things awkward if I was taking over an Ice-type gym. Doesn’t exactly fit the image you go for, you know?"

Well, that wasn’t the entire truth.

Ice was weak to rock, it was understood that rock was (in essence, if not literally) the antithesis to ice. In his experience ice had always been elegant, his mother’s battling style famous for its refinement and ice-types on the whole generally famed for their beauty, elegant and sleek.

Rock-types were rarely considered to be any of these things, rough creatures that operated through brute force, and his mother had always looked down on that sort of approach in battles (and maybe on rough, inelegant creatures in general). If he was suddenly championing rock-types didn’t that make him that sort of trainer?

If that was the sort of creature that he innately understood, then what did it say about him as a person?

"You’re not wrong, it would completely ruin the atmosphere of my gym." She answered.

Even though he’d expected her to say it, it still hurt to hear. He had no idea how he’d already gotten attached to his Pokémon, but it felt like she was talking about an extension of himself when she spoke.

"But." She continued "If you become leader permanently, then it’s not exactly my gym anymore is it? Might be nice for you to make it your own."

He was sure he must have been gaping at her.

There was no way she was serious about this. His mother was the woman that rejected health and safety reforms that said she wouldn’t be allowed to make challengers plummet through icy pitfalls. It was impossible that was actually telling him to just go ahead and turn her gym into a rock gym.

Yet, she didn’t look like she was making fun of him, and they were sat in the garden in peace with three of his rock-type Pokémon without her belittling him as a trainer (or a son).

It never hurt to check though.

"You’re kidding right?" He asked.

"I’m not! How much have I bullied you for you to think that I care more about the Pokémon you use, than what makes you happy?"

He wouldn’t say her training crossed the line into bullying, more…straddled it.

He just laughed in response.

"Seriously Snowball, when you agreed to do this for me, I knew what it meant for you. Maybe it’s my turn to learn to be flexible about it. I think a rock gym could be great, could definitely shock a few league challengers."

"That’s, uh, a big idea." He replied, unsure how to deal with the situation, the potential freedom he’d been granted.

There was no way he was going to start crying over Pokémon.

"Just one thing though." She began slyly.

Oh no.

He could tell he’d just managed to spring whatever trap she’d been setting.

"I get to fight whatever team you pick before anyone else! I need to make sure they’ve got what it takes, after all."

Her words were light, but his stomach lurched at the concept.

Years of fighting ‘Gym Leader Melony’ had been hard, and he’d struggled with every loss. But after their last fight? Basically the entirety of Circhester had turned up to gawk at them, to watch the spectacle of him utterly failing to reach his mother.

Back then he’d really thought that if he was able to beat her, if it was her who lost for a change, she might finally be able to understand where he was coming from and listen to him.

Except, he hadn’t managed to.

He felt bile rising to his throat at the thought of a repeat.

Whatever was showing on his face, she must have picked up exactly how he felt at the idea, gently tugging him towards her and running a calming hand through his hair.

"I don’t want to keep doing things like we used to either." She said simply.

"Mhm. I’m well used to you kicking my ar-" Wait this was his mother. "butt in Pokémon battles."

Nice save. Smooth.

Her fingers continued combing through strands of hair (probably making it dirty after he’d finally cleaned it) and he felt like a small child again at the sensation. How long had it been since he’d had such simple comfort?

"If we fight again and I lose again, with my new team, then doesn’t that just prove that I never had what it took to take over anyway?" He asked.

"Gordie… I know you said you never felt that spark, but I’ve always seen it in you! You’ve always been an incredible trainer. If everything before now was you doing things my way, then I’m excited to see you finally doing things your way!" She replied in excited whispers, once again mindful of not waking the others.

"You don’t have to do it, but I’d love at least one battle. No one needs to be there but us." She finished.

Really, if the thought of battling him brought her any excitement after the death of her husband he struggled to say no to her.

"Okay. But only if I do end up taking over the gym, alright? And no one watching." He acquiesced, far from eager to be trounced in front of a crowd. Again.

She smiled.

"Deal. It's getting late, hopefully you'll get some better sleep tonight, hmm?" She kissed his cheek, pulling him in for a hug.

"I'll try. Love you mom, night."

"Good night sweetie. Love you too."

She made her way in and just like last night he was once again alone in the house.

But he didn't feel like he was deliberating as heavily as he had been yesterday, actually feeling ready and able to go to bed. He followed his mother after finishing his drink. He don't what she did to stop her hot chocolate going lumpy and gross at the bottom, but no one else in the world ever managed it and it was worth coming home for that alone.

He really, really need to dust his room at the very least. Make it a little more welcoming to the living again, he mused. Never the less, he felt far more comfortable here than he had just last night.

Honestly, he felt more weightless than he had for as long as he could remember, spending years bottling things up or running away from the situation; he’d been convinced that his mother would never understand or accept his point of view. Now he had only been back two days and so much of that was just…gone?

Maybe not gone, not fully anyway. But it was out there, and they were both willing to work to rid themselves of the baggage between them permanently.

Sleep came far more easily to him that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, (some) other gym leaders exist and appear.


	4. Negative Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the funeral has arrived and it seems everybody needs a distraction.

Today, Gordie was going to be the perfect son. 

He’d been letting the dye fade from his hair since he’d gotten home, planning to wait until after the funeral reception to re-apply the colour, knowing it was important that he presented a respectful image. Paired with his neat, un-styled hair and appropriate mourning attire he was certain that he wouldn’t give anyone anything to gossip about. 

(Well except for the fact he was back after years in retreat, but that was all the more reason to be on his best behaviour.) 

To add to his efforts he was even making breakfast. It was getting easier to do that sort of stuff, as the days went on – a lifetime of muscle memory of how to just _live_ in this place, with these people, coming back to him. 

It certainly helped that as each day passed, the need to be helpful became more pressing.

Unfortunately, as his presence became more familiar again, it made the other unfamiliar thing in the house (his stepfather’s absence) much harder to ignore. The low mood had been exacerbated the last few days, as the funeral loomed. There were always well-wishers sending cards or phoning condolences, making it impossible to think about anything but death, in spite of their good intentions.

He was hoping that the funeral would help excise some of the tension that had settled. 

Presently, his mother was reading one of the cards that had arrived this morning with a furrowed brow; looking bone-tired of being present through all of this. Whatever about this particular card bothered her was apparently not up for discussion, as she threw it straight into the bin. f

The rest of the morning was no easier.

Saying goodbye was very difficult when the time came. His mother had already fully composed herself, poised and ready for the eyes of the outside world, in contrast to her daughter’s freely given tears and the triplets’ confused mourning. But there was something about that, that _blankness_ , that was off-putting. Gordie thought hard, to no avail, to understand what was bothering him so deeply about it. 

It was only later, at the sight of her being interviewed, that he recalled small, dark spaces and tears hidden from the world. Things that had previously been put away forever. Things that it really wasn’t the time for when he was babysitting. (Siblingsitting?) 

Frankly he blamed the media. 

Because of course the first thing on the TV would be mom, bloody typical really. Gordie didn’t understand how a grieving gym leader made informative Circhester news, but ‘Melony’ had become a bit of a brand, beyond her work. Yet another reason not to be her successor, he noted with disdain, highly doubting that anyone wanted a part of whatever ‘brand’ he was exuding. 

He scrambled to turn it off, before the triplets caught on to what it was. Most likely, he’d been zoned out too long to have much success, but it was definitely worth a try. Really he should have just switched channel, now he’d have to turn it back on if he wanted anything else on, so they’d be exposed to it _again._

Fantastic job, wonder-son. 

"Let’s not watch any telly, seems boring today." He said, lamely. 

"That was mum!" Pearl pointed out, and yeah his excuse had been weak enough that even a reception-aged child had seen through it. 

Which of course meant that he had to dig even deeper into it. 

"Yeah, but we see mom every day! That’s a bit boring right? There’s got to be something fun you want to do."

He was willing to do anything to stop them having to see that again. 

"You never showed me how to handstand." Platty volunteered. 

Ah yes. Platty had forgotten about that particular promise after a couple of hours of beating up his poor Shuckle. Gordie had been quietly hoping that he would, giving him the chance to check in private if he could even still do one, not overly eager to embarrass himself in front of a bunch of children otherwise. 

What he had not considered however, was that he would forget too; which, of course, he had. Blame Opal for that, her and her traumatic shopping ambushes. 

So, he supposed that left him with two choices: firstly, to disappoint a 5-year-old child on the day of his father’s funeral; or secondly, to risk abject humiliation from three of them if he was indeed too heavy to do something he’d done his whole bloody life. 

At least that might make them laugh, he thought, resigning himself to the fact that he didn’t really have much of a choice at all. 

"Okay, you win. Come on." He motioned them to follow. Pearl and Mondy hadn’t even said that they wanted to try but they followed anyway, simple curiosity winning out. 

He led them into the conservatory for more space, moving bits of furniture around. Should he put down something on the floor to stop them slipping? He’d probably be able to catch them; besides he had failed a bunch of handstands as a child and survived. 

Just in case, he grabbed some pillows. No need to risk breaking their skulls today. 

"Alright, so I can lift you into the position and let you hold it, or you can try pushing your legs up from the wall."

"I wanna do it myself." Platty answered.

He quickly grabbed some newspaper, tacking it to the wall, and grabbed them all clean socks. Good sons definitely did not let children get dirty footprints on their mother’s wall on the day of her husband’s funeral. 

"Want me to help you start walking up?" He asked 

"Can you show me what to do first?" Came the reply, the exact opposite one to what he wanted to hear. 

Definitely no escape now. 

"You’ll need to get back a bit. I’m bigger than you so I need more space." He ushered them away, not wanting to kick (or crush) them. 

Bracing himself for some horrific failure he started walking up into position, immensely relieved that his body seemed to remember the motions. Kicking out into the stand and holding was a bit trickier, his centre of gravity off, but he managed to adapt and hold it with pleasantly surprising ease. Plus, tucked in shirt, so no blinding himself with his own clothes, giving him full (albeit inverted) view of three very little face staring in wonderment. 

He supposed it was like riding a bike, only without the being forced to wear hideous outfits to do so.

Platty was trying to get his attention now, clearly eager for his own turn. He lowered (a little less graceful than it could have been) and started helping his half-brother into position, still feeling a little giddy. How could he have forgotten how much he used to love doing things like that? 

The other pair sat off a little ways, giggling each time their brother didn’t quite manage it. He’d managed to walk up the wall into position and was now working to hold it properly as well as trying straight from the ground instead of from the wall, which Gordie demonstrated for him. 

With the assurance that he could in fact still do it, he _might_ have been showing off now. Just a bit. But the joy of children was that they didn’t get annoyed by that sort of thing, too busy being impressed by the performance. 

After yet another tumble into his arms, Pearl and Mondy’s laughter slipped out once more. 

"Be nice you two. You can have a turn if you’d like." Gordie interrupted them. 

Turns out their idea of having a go was getting him to hold them from the feet and carry all of the weight, which quickly turned into making him dangle them from their feet in the air. They were so tiny, he marvelled, having gotten used to carrying the weight of dense rock-type Pokémon.

(It was perfectly normal and natural, okay? Sometimes, slow Pokémon want to get places faster and some are very happy to do so cradled like a baby in their trainer’s arms)

The kids on the other hand may have been small, but were impossibly loud, shrieking with joy as he whirled them around. Even Platty joined in, despite his earlier commitment to independence. 

It made sense, he mused, this kind of play was probably a novelty to them with mom busy so often. Their father was, or rather had been, a twig-like man and Gordie struggled to imagine that he’d been able to throw them around like this passed about the age of three (if he were being generous). He couldn’t remember when he’d gotten too big for mom to do that sort of thing with him, having been an admittedly clingy child.

The trio would probably have to go pay their respects to their father soon, he realised, finally thinking to check the time after being reminded by his own reverie. 

Hurriedly, he grabbed their coats and got them buttoned up and ready to set off, helping them with the laces of their shoes. Something about this felt domestic in a way he was unfamiliar and uncomfortable with.

It was busy when he got there, probably less so because of his stepfather himself and entirely more to do with people trying to suck up to his mother. Speaking of who, he couldn’t catch any sign of.

This was the first funeral (well, technically funeral reception) he’d ever been to, and it was making him squirm restlessly. People had left some of the programs dotted around, the single photo of his stepfather on the front now probably going to be how people remembered him for the rest of their lives. He was sure people would be recounting stories about him to his mother, maybe some even to each other.

It was unsettling, throwing a party for someone who wasn’t there and making them the centre of it.

Someone called out to the triplets, and he was hoping his mother would be with them, only it was an older couple who he didn’t recognise, until the trio shouted back to them in response.

"Nanny! Grandad!"

Crap. 

They were extremely loud, which was entirely in-keeping with their previous behaviour, but perhaps not ideal after a funeral. Especially when they were attached at the hands to someone who had desperately been trying to avoid the scrutiny of the other guest.

Clearly he had failed. The triplets had drawn the eyes of many of the guests, and the eyes of the guests who recognised him seemed to linger.

He didn’t want to know what they thought when they looked at him. 

Really he should have been paying attention to where they were leading him, having found himself tugged by tiny hands over to the couple who looked very pleased to see the triplets, but slightly confused at the sight of him.

They had met a few times, but generally he had little to do with his stepfathers’ family. Still, they were kind enough, smiling at him and asking him how he’d been doing; praising him for helping out with his mother and the kids.

In the face of their benevolence, he only felt that much worse. Their son was dead; he was dead and for the past two years he had barely gotten to see his wife because Gordie had been too selfish to help his mother, not to mention how he’d soaked up her time before with their arguments.

Suddenly, being there, with them was entirely too much.

"Have you seen Mom? I said I was gonna meet up with her when I got here." He tried, casually. 

"Can I tag along?" Opal asked, clearly worried she was going to be left out.

"Of course you can come, it’s gonna be pretty boring though. She wanted me to have a talk with Kabu and Opal about what will happen when I cover for her at the gym." He said, not willing to announce to her listening grandparents that he was doing more than just covering.

Thankfully Opal seemed to have caught on and didn’t dispute what he’d said.

"Chat with Ms Opal? She’s sort of mean." She said, pouting slightly.

"Hey, don’t be rude." He laughed. "You owe her a lot you know, if it wasn’t for her mom would have probably named you Cantaloupe or something."

"Actually mum told me she’d been planning Honey, for Honeydew." She corrected, pedantically sticking her tongue out at him.

He struggled to decide if that was a better or worse name than what he’d been given.

"Fine, you don’t owe her that then, but Opal isn’t mean she’s just… direct." He chose, being diplomatic.

It was true that Opal had little time for fools, but she had always been very kind to his mother when he’d been young, and that had been at a time when many people were choosing not to be. She’d long denied any motherly feelings or instincts and loathed being called nan or anything similar, claiming that she just wanted to foster talent in the young, but he could tell there was affection there.

Or at least there had been before he’d abandoned his mother.

"I’m gonna go look for them now, alright?" He said, waiting to see if Opal the younger tagged along.

However, the thought of spending time with her namesake had apparently dissuaded her.

Finally making his way over to his mother, who had been swarmed by ever-changing pools of people since he’d arrived, he took stock of her. She looked blank still, and he was suddenly worried about what the fallout would be.

(Would it be like she used to be, all those years ago?) 

"Hey. How you holding up?" He asked.

"It was a lovely service, and everyone has been very kind." She said, simply.

Which… wasn’t exactly an answer to what he’d asked. But she didn’t give him any chance to press her on it.

"Have you been up to something? You look…frazzled." She whispered, motioning to his hair.

His hair?

Crap. He hadn’t brushed his or the children’s hair again after tossing them upside-down for ages. They looked a bit feral as he turned to check theirs and he doubted he look much better.

So much for good impressions, he thought resignedly, smoothing down his hair as far as possible.

"I was… finding ways to entertain them." He replied, equally hushed.

"Ah, at their mercy then I imagine."

"Yep. Lots of pick-ups, and maybe extended periods of upside-down time." He admitted.

She pulled him in for a one-armed hug, giving him a quick peck on the forehead.

"Thank you so much for looking after them this morning, I really appreciate you making the effort with them Snowball. I think they really look up to you."

A bitter thought occurred to him, unbidden, that he really didn’t think they ever would.

"You said you wanted to chat with Kabu and Opal while we were here?" He offered. 

It was much easier for her mother to move around now that he was with her, forming a sort of physical barrier to the guests, compared to when she was alone. They made their way over to Opal and Kabu who were already talking about something; he knew she was eager to discuss their plans for the gym with them.

Technically it was after the funeral, he mused considering their earlier promise, but he felt it was far more likely that his mother was just trying to distract herself.

His mother cheerfully announced their presence to the pair, brandishing Gordie by the shoulders as if to say ‘Look, this is a Gordie I found. He’s really back now.’

This was another thing about gym leaders, in Galar at least, they all had very strong presences.

Opal was an intimidating one, in spite of her age and stature. Draped in black for the funeral and purples so dark as to be indistinguishable she look more like a ghost trainer currently. She was clutching her ornate umbrella as a cane, and her sharp eyes were seeing straight through him.

Kabu was dressed more formally than Gordie was accustomed to, which made sense; you could hardly wear a gym leader jersey to a funeral. But he was stood as alert as if he was on the pitch awaiting challengers, endlessly prepared and disciplined.

"Hello." Was all he could think to say, giving them a terrible half wave that made him cringe from his own awkwardness.

Definitely not gym leader presence.

"It’s good to see you home safely." Kabu replied, politely ignoring his pathetic introduction.

"Well, well, haven’t you... grown up, Gordie." Opal said instead, giving him a once over.

Maybe little Opal had been right, he mused, because from her tone he was fairly certain this one was just telling him he’d gotten fat; he’d been almost 18 when he’d left, hardly a child.

"We actually have some news. Don’t we Gordie?" She prompted him.

Oh, she wanted _him_ to announce it. Probably to give him one last chance to back out without seeming like a completely wretched coward to multiple people, but right now it was only contributing to the anxiety he was already feeling.

"I’ve agreed to start running mom’s gym sessions, and we’ve talked about… making it permanent. Like, me becoming Circhester’s new leader." He explained stiltedly.

No need to mention their grander plans just yet.

"Melony if you’re already retiring, then what does that mean for fossils like us?" Opal said, motioning to herself and Kabu, who for his part seemed a little offended at having been grouped as a fossil, even if he tried not to show it.

"Oh come on Opal, it’s not like that." His mother replied.

"Hmmm. I think you might give people ideas, I heard Stow-on-Side were considering a big shake up too. All gossip so far, of course. But you may well push them over the edge." She said.

Gordie didn’t think it was going to be ‘just gossip’, Opal had an ability of knowing everything going on around her before anyone else did, when he was a child he’d been convinced she had magic, like the fairy Pokémon she favoured. Looking at Ballonlea how could he not?

He hadn’t yet been entirely convinced otherwise.

"We were just wondering if you had any wisdom for my bold successor." Melony said, seeming in good humour.

As it turns out, they actually did. Decades of experience will do that, he supposed. He listened carefully, glad to have the chance to take his mind off everything else, while he took mental notes for future reference.

Was he really supposed to be doing this in only a few days’ time? 

As the conversation began to lull, his mother eagerly changed the topic, clearly not in the mood for silence.

"Gordie did you bring your phone? Show Kabu the pictures you took in Hoenn!" She announced gleefully.

While he was showing them through the photos (which was incidentally more enjoyable than he’d anticipated, Kabu often having something informative to say about specific spots and features he’d captured) he suddenly realised that the Gym Leader may be able to assist him on a different topic. 

"Wait, sorry Kabu. Extremely weird question." He interrupted.

"And that would be?" Kabu replied.

"Can Blazikens do handstands?" He asked, wondering how far Kabu’s fire-type expertise reached.

Gordie had always known Kabu to be entirely unflappable and, matching that reputation, he looked only slightly puzzled by the question, despite how far from the leftfield it had come.

"I… don’t know. Is there any particular reason you were wondering?" He asked.

"It’s just this thing with Platty. Don’t worry about it. I thought maybe you’d tried it out." He laughed while explaining.

"Ah, I understand. Your mother told me about their new Pokémon. Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll be very useful with helping Platty with his Torchic. I’ve never looked after one."

"Really? I thought in Hoenn pretty much everyone starts with one of them?"

"You’re not wrong. But I took on the responsibility of looking after a Treeko." He replied, somewhat wistfully, despite his stoic face. 

"Really? I’m struggling to get that mental picture." He laughed.

"Yes, I can imagine. I can assure you; I don’t look very good in green."

Had Kabu just made a joke? Gordie just smiled, not wanting to offend him if he was being sincere.

"I spent years doing that sort of thing, actually. Even spent a few years as a proper grass-type trainer in Hoenn, before I became a gym leader there." He explained.

"You were a gym leader there? I actually went to a couple of them, I think they’re bloody mad! It’s just empty rooms and then a kid goes in alone to battle a bunch of adults? Not my cup of tea at all." He said, before remembering he should maybe be a little more respectful about Kabu’s home.

But Kabu only smiled, barely visible.

"It would seem strange if you’ve grown up with this, and I’m not inclined to disagree. I moved here for a reason."

"So why the switch to fire-types? Was it cause, you weren’t allowed to use your old Treeko in Galar League?" He asked.

"I think I realised that I’d been sticking to a choice I’d made as a child because that was expected of me, but I’d long known that I had changed. When I came here there was no longer any expectation, so I finally decided to try it out." He seemed to watch Gordie, almost slyly.

"Your mother said that you may have been going through something very similar yourself." He finally added, when Gordie didn't respond.

She had told _Kabu_? He could feel his face flushing at the revelation, although he wasn’t sure why. Had she told anyone else? Gordie had never known the pair to be that close that they’d start gossiping about his life. Although, it wasn’t as if he had known her at all for years by this point.

"Oh? Are you going to switch the gym type Gordie?" Opal asked, obnoxiously perceptive and fully aware of it.

Well, mom clearly hadn’t told her. But now he’d be expected to and then she’d be able to pass it on to everyone, and then he’d struggle to back out of any of it. Great.

"Uh, nothing certain yet. But I’ve started trying out training with rock-types." He replied, trying to downplay it.

"Rock? I would have guessed electric, why the hair then? Is it just another strange trend?" She asked.

His hair wasn’t even _that_ yellow right now and he hadn’t even styled it!

Oh, wait, she was probably basing her judgement off some of the pictures on his phone, he reassured himself. Surely his current hairstyle wasn’t offensive to the guests.

"Yep, just being trendy." He answered smiling, hoping that none of them could tell how strained it felt to him.

She just laughed back.

"I don’t understand young people anymore. You’ll definitely keep trainers guessing though. I think you’ll do very well in your mother’s shoes." She stated.

At least one person did, he thought, wishing he could as well.

"Many of the gym leaders who joined in the last few years are around your age, so I imagine you’ll be in good company." Kabu added.

Soon after, the conversation ebbed off which seemed to be the cue for more of the people in the room to flock to Melony again. They kept reminiscing about stories of his stepdad, and each time he realised he knew nothing about the story in question he felt worse about the whole situation.

Gordie had really been trying his absolute hardest to shut himself out of their lives, it felt in hindsight.

Slowly, guests started leaving, having apparently spent enough time that they didn’t look unempathetic, and the reception began to wind up.

"I’m going to say goodbye to the little ones." His mother said from next to him.

Wait.

What?

"They’re staying at their grandparents. Did I forget to tell you? We planned it a couple of days ago." She answered, and he wasn’t sure if she’d read his face or if he had asked aloud.

This had not been mentioned once, even by the triplets and there was no way they would shut up about something like this. Why was she saying it as if it had been pre-planned?

Whatever was going on, the grandparents did seem to be aware of the plan and the triplets seemed very excited for their surprise sleepover. Opal on the other hand seemed upset, although she was doing her best to hide it.

This certainly didn’t help her impressions that she was pushed aside, he mused. He had actually spoken to his mother about it, they just hadn’t had the chance to talk it out between the three of them. 

He pulled his half-sister slightly aside when the opportunity finally presented itself.

"Hey. You alright?" He asked her.

"Is there something wrong with mum?" Was her only answer.

Well, crap, that was the real question wasn’t it?

"I’m not sure. I had no idea this was happening." He admitted. "If anything happens I promise I’ll let you know."

She still looked hurt by the decision.

"Hey it’s gonna be alright. I’ll look after mom and you look after the little three. It’s like swapping shifts from this morning." He said, hoping that it would make her feel like they had equal responsibility.

It seemed to work for the most part, her expression seeming less upset and more focused as she set off with the rest of her family.

Now he had to figure out what was wrong with the rest of _his_ family.

He made his way over to his mother, who seemed to be ready to leave herself now. She looked... something slightly less than blank, although he struggled to identify exactly what he was seeing.

"Oh Gordie! There you are." She said with a big smile, but one that didn’t reach her eyes. "Would you be able to do me a favour?"

This was less than encouraging, he thought.

"What do you need?"

"Would you be able to help Opal get home?" She asked, gesturing to the gym leader standing a little ways away.

He doubted she needed any help, why would his mom ask in the first place? The journey would take ages if he had to get there and back. 

"Do you really think that’s a good idea, right now Mom? I don’t want you to be alone."

"I’ll be fine!" She answered sharply. "I just won’t be able to relax if I don’t know Opal’s safe. Please Snowball?"

Did she really have to use a nickname like _that_ around other people? Granted, Opal had known him most his life; but still, it was the principle!

"Come on." Opal agreed. "Don’t be disrespectful, you should always help your elders."

Had his mom managed to rope everyone about the age of 40 into her strange plans? He didn’t really have much he could do, starting an argument with his mom in public had, historically, ended badly and today of all days was not a time to try and break the pattern.

"Alright, I’ll do it. You ready?" He asked, addressing the gym leader.

They left the venue with linked arms, and even such casual contact was unfamiliar. Had he really been so distant from… everybody for the past two years?

Or perhaps even longer, he mused, the funeral apparently having sent him into a melancholy.

They travelled for about 20 minutes, mostly in companionable silence, before Opal began speaking once more.

"Gordie, why are you following me?" She asked.

"Mom asked me to see you back?" He replied, suddenly deeply unsure. 

"Yes she did, and were you actually going to do it?" She questioned.

He was surprised at her sudden intensity, and more importantly, profoundly confused by her sudden change of tune. 

"The woman clearly needs someone right now, and you seem like the ideal candidate. Go on, you shouldn’t leave her alone. I’ll be fine, I’m old not helpless." She finished, already walking off.

"Then why didn’t you say something back then?" He asked frustratedly. 

Opal just scoffed.

"She would have just asked you to do something else, don’t be foolish Gordie. Some people like to act like they can always be strong alone, but no one can actually manage it all the time." She answered.

Gordie smiled in spite of himself, apparently he and his mother had both fallen victim to one of Opal’s traps. She really was a Wizard at this sort of thing. 

Opal certainly liked to act tough but clearly she’d been watching out for his mother all day. He found himself glad that she’d been there for her, and that she apparently approved of him as a

gym leader and a son, regardless of what else she may have to say. He knew how fondly protective Opal felt towards his mother, it didn’t matter how many protests to the opposite effect she made. 

"Oh, Gordie." She called back to him, having gotten surprisingly far while he’d been thinking.

"I have one more piece of advice. I remembered it to do with when your mother first started."

"Yeah?" He replied, intrigued. 

"If lots of young ladies start joining up, I highly doubt they’re actually there for a passion towards rock-type Pokémon. Don’t let them stay just because you feel guilty kicking them out." She said, her departing wisdom.

What? 

He understood her insinuation. But she’d made multiple somewhat snide comments about his appearance earlier (some of which he wasn’t inclined to disagree with), so it was hard to see why she now seemed to think young women would come to the gym for him.

Obviously they wouldn’t.

That suited him just fine, he could recall some of the men who joined their gym just to ogle his mother, as well as the boys at his school who used to make jokes about doing the exact same thing. Frankly the thought alone was nauseating. 

Thankfully, his mother’s intense training tended to scare off or boot out those sorts of trainers. Or rather it had, he reminded himself, his mother’s era apparently coming to an end.

Speaking of which… Opal was right, he really should get back to her. The day of her husband’s funeral and he hadn’t seen her cry once. Maybe she really was okay, but he had the feeling something was very off from her most recent behaviour. 

Unable to shake off the feeling they’d been here before, he set off home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordie has come out a lot more self-conscious than I intended when I started writing this, but I suppose self-love is easier once you've already got a fan-club. (And when you're not torturing yourself over your past choices) 
> 
> Also is the paragraph spacing for this chapter messed up? I can't tell if it is, if it is life-ruiningly bad let me know.


	5. Round in circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't okay. 
> 
> But haven't they been this way before?

The funeral must have gotten him out of sorts. Stuck thinking endlessly about things he should be able to set aside.

For instance, once when he was much, much younger, Gordie had lived in a different place. It had been years since he had spared their old bedsit a passing thought, even longer since he’d been able to recall anything about it other than the faintest impressions.

Why was it then, walking to a house he had lived in all his life after, he was suddenly transported to the windings streets that would have led him there? As if the memories of that time were superimposed over what was real here in the present.

It was baffling.

He could see it clearly, sharper than he could picture any of the places he’d stayed in for the past two years; the plain metal door tacked onto the corner shop, leading straight to a staircase with shrinkage cracks reaching across the walls. There were three doors at the top and theirs had been the right hand one. 

Except he wasn’t at the metal door. He was at their home.

So why was he so sure he’d find the same thing if he opened the front door now?

Because he’d been here before, a little voice in his head answered for him.

There had been two rooms in the flat. A bathroom and an everything else room, with the corner kitchen, the fold-out bed and every other method of not using space the designers could think of. The sort of thing only people desperate for a place (any place) to exist would decide to rent.

Definitely not a place for hiding.

Not like here, he thought, entering the hall. This place had comfortably housed seven of them at one point and he’d still been able to hide away from everyone else in it.

All the lights were off downstairs. He couldn’t hear his mother.

Mom didn’t hide from things. She never had.

_(Except for when she did.)_

But she’d sent them away, sent the little four to their Nan’s house and tried to send him to Ballonlea with Opal. 

That was hiding for her, pushing everyone else away. Shutting everything down until she was perfectly, truly alone.

She hadn’t wanted to be alone until now.

In a big house like this it would probably work, unless you knew the patterns.

But in a two-room flat for two there was only so long you could hide.

(Which he guessed was how you learnt the patterns.)

He began making his way up the stairs.

He’d never had a Nan who she could take him to, or any place in the world she could leave him overnight, so those would be the times she was caught. Earlier in the day she’d find ways around it, but the sounds of tears seemed to cut through the solace night brought.

Whenever he heard the tears he’d follow them, not that difficult even for a child considering the size of where they lived. The lock on the bathroom door had never worked and Gordie had always been able to intrude on the moments.

He’d been about three or four when it started, which meant that his mother was probably about his age now, which had never seemed scary until he tried picturing himself in her place as he was now.

Each time he found her, sobbing, curled in on herself as if she could stop the sound escaping, she’d be mortified.

Sort of like she looked now, as he softly opened the door to the room she had shared with his stepfather.

(He’d been angry about that when they bought this place, having always shared the single room in the flat with his mother. It had taken him a while to learn to sleep without the reassuring presence of someone else in the room. When he learnt years later exactly _what_ couples did in bedrooms he had been horrified, as if something sacred had been destroyed.)

Currently alone however, her face was blotchy, and there was a bottle of _something_ on the floor.

If this had been the old place, she would have stopped crying now. She was always able to stop her tears coming when she knew he could see, putting on a big smile for him. Then she’d apologise, explaining to him that parents shouldn’t cry in front of their babies, that they’re meant to protect them.

Once, he’d believed that every time she stopped crying it meant she felt better. Then he’d gotten a little older and realised she’d been hiding it for his sake every time he caught her. By that time he’d learned to pretend to stay asleep through her episodes, hoping she’d be able to get it out of her system if he didn’t interrupt her. He always felt better after he was done with tears after all. 

Then, she started her second family, they bought a family sized home and everything before seemed to be dismissed as history. He’d taken all of that, all of his memories of that time, and secluded them in their own space; as if the bathroom of that flat was in his head, keeping the past safe so he’d never find it again.

But he wasn’t sure you could ever really leave that stuff behind.

Regardless of what they could or couldn’t abandon in the past, this was not the old place, their relationship was not in the place it once was. Frankly he had no idea where they stood now, but he wasn’t a child anymore.

They didn’t need to fall into old patterns.

Gathering his bravery, he made his way over to her. He waited for any indication that she wanted him to leave, but none came.

Pulling her into a hug, he was momentarily surprised to realise that he’s taller than her now; certainly not by a huge amount, but every time he’d found her like this before he’d been a much younger child always looking up into teary eyes instead of down.

It’s disorientating, just for a moment, and reminds him how easy it is for kids to forget that their parents are people, when they seem so much _bigger_ (so much more) than a child imagines they’ll ever be.

Arceus, his mother had been a teenager when she’d been put on this pedestal, he could understand why she never wanted her kids to have that illusion broken. But he knew they couldn’t keep this up forever.

Or something far more important than just their delusions might break. 

"Have you been drinking?" He asked, releasing his hold on her and eyeing the bottle.

"Tried. Thought it might make me feel better, apparently I forgot that alcohol tastes terrible." She replied.

It didn’t seem like she was lying, there were no other bottles lying around that he could see, and his mother was known to, historically, have the palate of a child when it came to so-called acquired tastes. 

But he doubted she had the highest tolerance for that sort of thing, not being one to drink in the first place. Besides, he hadn’t been that far behind her; what she had drank she had done so very quickly, and it wasn’t a small bottle by any means. 

"How long are the others staying with their grandparents?" He tried. 

"They’re meant to be staying for the weekend. See their cousins and stuff, you know." She answered, before cringing. Probably realising that, no, he didn’t know what that was like at all.

She was acting as nonchalantly as she could muster, as if he hadn’t just walked in on her all-out weeping, while trying to get wasted. Clearly they were getting off to a just great start.

"Please Mom, just talk to me. Or at least talk to someone!" He pleaded, not able to be casual in the circumstances.

"I can’t do it, Gord."

He’d assumed she meant talk to him, but then she continued.

"I can’t look after them alone… I’ll just ruin them."

"You’re not alone!" He insisted, met only by her unconvinced gaze in response.

Well, that wasn’t unfair, he’d abandoned her in the past for less; she was hardly going to think he was reliable enough for this.

"And this isn’t your first go at it." He tried to reassure her.

Only to be met by humourless laughter, interrupted by fresh sobs.

"Yeah, sure. I screwed that right up!" She replied.

What?

He could have taken a wood hammer to the chest then, and probably not felt any worse for it. How was he supposed to respond to that? His own mother admitting she thought he was messed up.

He couldn’t say anything, it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Something must have shown on his face, because she seemed to collapse in on herself, breathing heavily into her hands.

"I don’t mean it like that! You’re not the screw up Gordie, I am! You keep doing… _that,_ and I have no idea what I’m meant to do to make it better."

"Doing what!" He yelled. Less of a question, more a demand to finally tell him how to stop upsetting her.

"You keep looking at me like that! Like everything I say or do is gonna… I don’t even know! Break you or something!"

Admittedly he had been doing a lot of that. Probably a consequence of the fact he perpetually felt exactly how she was describing. He hadn’t realised just how aware she’d been of his fears though. 

"I drove you away! You came back, but you’re still afraid of me. How in the world am I supposed to raise _four_ more when I’m clearly just a bad mom?" She asked.

"You’re not a bad mom and I’m not afraid of you! I’m just scared that… I’m gonna disappoint you." He replied, struggling for the words he wanted.

"Do I make you feel like I’m disappointed in you?" She asked, looking stricken.

Despite himself, he couldn’t find an answer for her.

"You could never disappoint me. I adore you Gordie, I always have, and I always will; no matter what happens."

"I… I don’t know why I feel like this, but it’s not you! I’m just not… enough! I’m always letting everyone down!" He admitted. 

Was that true? He certainly hadn’t thought about it until now, just as surprised as his mom seemed that it had even slipped out. Yet, it didn’t sound false as he said it he realised, starkly.

Again, he struggled to understand how he’d come to this, having always been too much of everything growing up. 

When he’d come back he’d been terrified that mom would resent him, and assured that little Opal hated him too when she’d confronted him. He’d been certain that he wouldn’t be welcome at the funeral, and that Opal and Kabu would dislike him for what he’d done. To an extent, he had even been worried what the triplets had thought of him.

There was a pattern here, it hurt to admit, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

Why in Arceus’ name was he taking over the gym, if he was scared millions of people would find him as disappointing as he apparently found himself?

But now really wasn’t the time for self-pity, not when his mother’s heart was breaking in front of him.

"Gordie… why- " She began.

"This isn’t about me!" He interrupted, stunning her into silence.

Shit, why was he yelling at her?

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. But you always make it about them, or about me, and right now I’m worried about _you_. Your husband died and you’ve barely said a word about how you feel!"

"What does it matter?" She asked, so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it.

"It matters a lot, mom. That’s the whole point." He replied.

"He’s gone. No matter what I do it’s not gonna change it, and I’m alone, again, and those four are still here. They’re the ones who need me, and now I have to do it alone, and I can’t… I-It shouldn’t have happened like this." She answered, descending into sobs as she continued.

The tears continued, and Gordie found himself unable to do much but hold her through the worst of it, grabbing her some water from the kitchen, while making at least change out of her funeral clothes. At least in pyjamas she’d be comfortable, if still miserable.

"I don’t get it." She admitted.

Before he could ask her what she meant, she elaborated.

"I should be used to doing things alone, shouldn’t I? It shouldn’t feel like this."

"I don’t think feelings really care what they should or shouldn’t be." He replied, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

She turned to look at him, spooked as if she had somehow managed to forget he was there. Wiping her eyes, she composed herself again.

"Ah. I need to stop being silly, I’m sorry snowball. You don’t want to be stuck here while I’m throwing myself a pity party." She said, making sounds as close to laughter as she could manage. Empty and entirely unconvincing.

All at once it was as if they were tucked away in that old, worn bathroom, as if it were a space untouched by time. She’d always tried to convince him she was feeling better. As a child he’d believed her, and as an adolescent he’d started lying back, letting her think he believed her despite knowing better. (They really were too similar, he mused.)

What was he meant to do as an adult?

"Please, stop pretending you’re okay mom. It’s not okay! None of this is okay, and I can tell that you’re not alright! No one is expecting you to be, so please just be honest about it." He pleaded, feeling tears in his own eyes.

In response she stared at him like she had heard him speak for the first time. As if given expressed permission, she began to cry again, grabbing him once more and just sobbing into his chest. He kept a tight hold on her, trying to support her as the force of her crying wracked her frame. 

She didn’t say much as the night went on, but he glad she was getting the chance to finally rid herself of all the tears she’d been holding in if nothing else. It was hard to tell if she was avoiding talking about it, or if she genuinely was unsure of how to possibly express how she felt. They both knew she had precious little experience doing that in the first place.

Eventually the force of her own grief seemed to exhaust her, he watched as she physically struggled to stay awake as the night stretched on. Some sleep would definitely do them both the world of good. He brushed her hair away from her face and made his way to leave, before he heard her speak.

"Wait… Stay. Please?" She pleaded quietly; words slurred from fatigue (he hoped).

"I don’t want to fall asleep alone." She explained.

He could understand that, it was easier to focus on what you’d lost when you were alone. Thoughts of what else you were going to lose plaguing you.

"Of course, I don’t mind." He replied, grateful if a little surprised that she had actually asked something of him. 

This had to be progress, right?

An air of awkwardness quickly fell over the room. Neither of them felt comfortable at the thought of lying on that side of the bed, he could tell, not when his mother was feeling its emptiness so keenly. He wanted to make her feel better and he knew that it would just make her feel worse if he invaded the space that had previously been his stepfather’s.

"I’ll take the floor, don’t worry, I’m young and hearty. I did this sort of thing a couple of times when I was travelling." He volunteered.

"I don’t want to make you sleep on a floor Gordie, forget it… I was being silly." She replied, clearly embarrassed at her moment of vulnerability. 

"No way! One sec I’ll get my PJs, go grab my quilt and we can make a proper sleepover of it. It’ll be like old times." He replied, forcing as much humour into his voice as he could manage.

He’d finally gotten her to admit she needed something; he wasn’t about to let her convince herself it was too much trouble for him. Unfortunately, he noted that the mention of the room they used to share made her wince; he shouldn’t have tried to joke about that, knowing that she sometimes felt insecure about not having had enough to offer him as a child.

When he reached his room he grabbed his pillow too for good measure, not wanting to have to interrupt the space they were both avoiding through unspoken agreement. He brushed his teeth quickly, not wanting to make her wait but also not wanting to feel completely disgusting when he woke up tomorrow.

To his relief she hadn’t fallen asleep thinking he’d gone back on what he said while he’d been getting ready, sending him a small but deeply sad smile as he turned off the light.

He made his little makeshift bed ready, glad that it actually didn’t seem too uncomfortable so far, although he imagined his opinion may change after an entire night on it. 

"Goodnight Mom, love you." He said quietly.

Apparently she was already asleep, because he was met with no response.

Feeling bizarrely like a small child once more (despite finally breaking the pattern in their behaviour) he quickly followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, if only because it was originally way longer and had to be cut in two because there was no feasible way it could all flow. Part 2 is almost 7000 words on its own. 
> 
> So yeah, Pokemon are still a thing that exist, they even show up in the next chapter, instead of just sad, dysfunctional people. 
> 
> (Don't worry though, there's still sad, dysfunctional people.)


	6. Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can things go back under your control if you're unwilling to admit they ever left it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Frank discussions of grief, self-esteem and body image problems. (Weight-related) 
> 
> Also twitter user @solsticeice did some fan art for this fic and you should go look at it because it’s beautiful. 
> 
> twitter.com/solsticeice/status/1203609487803707393  
> twitter.com/solsticeice/status/1203614714221084672

He woke up lay on a floor, which shouldn’t have been a shock considering he’d fallen asleep on one, but his mind had been fuzzy from sheer fatigue when he’d managed to fall asleep yesterday and against all odds, he’d forgotten where that was. 

There was only a slight crick in his neck, he noted gratefully.

He stretched, hearing a satisfying pop in his back, stiff from his choice of sleep position. Making his way up, he checked around the room for any sight of his mom. Apparently despite her difficult night she’d managed to wake up earlier than he had.

He walked down the stairs, intentionally making more noise with the steps than strictly necessary, just to tip her off to his presence. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like he just kept ambushing her in private moments.

When he got to the kitchen he finally found her, nursing a cup of tea and looking mostly recovered from the events of last night.

There was a coffee by her side, he could smell it from here, steam languidly rising from the mug.

"Morning mom! You’re up early, how’s everything?" He tried, lightly.

"I’m sorry about last night. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that." She answered.

A pretty morbid opening to the morning. 

"I’m not ten anymore mom. I know you want to be strong for us, but no one expects you to be okay right now, and I promise you I’m big enough to handle it."

"I was thinking about what you said." She admitted.

"Yeah?"

"You’re right. I have been focusing on the kids to avoid talking about... everything." She admitted.

Why was she in agreement with him? He knew he should be relieved, but he couldn’t help feeling there was a trap here somewhere.

"But I think you’ve been doing the same, you keep worrying about all of us, but I think there’s something going on with you, and you know it but just don’t want to talk about it." She continued.

Ah, that would be the trap.

Honestly, she was giving him too much credit; he’d barely been aware there was any underlying problem (although it was getting harder to deny the longer he was home, he admitted to himself).

"So let’s make a deal. I’ll talk about what I’m feeling, if you answer something for me." She finished.

"Yes. Anything!" He answered, relieved at the prospect of finally getting her to open up.

"Are you really okay with taking over the gym?" She asked.

That actually wasn’t too difficult a question, he’d been musing on it himself since he’d come back, so he was fairly assured in his convictions now.

"I am, I promise. I know I said some stuff last night, but it’s just that you’ve left me some big shoes to fill." He explained.

"You did say “some stuff”, didn’t you? Why do you feel like you’re disappointing everyone Gordie?" She asked, following up her previous one.

She’d completely sprung that on him, hadn’t she? She’d definitely been trying to lead him into it too, he could tell.

This was another issue he’d been introspective of (although unknowingly in this case), the only problem was he wasn’t sure he was liking his answers and he was certain she’d find them even less palatable.

"I think that goes beyond the remit of my expected answer." He said, slightly panicked.

"No it doesn’t! I’m not gonna let you take it over if it’s going to make you miserable. I’ve told you, I care about your wellbeing more than I care about the gym."

"I’m fed up of you being willing to give up the things you care about for us!" He admitted. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling a little down on myself lately; but I really, really want to give it a try; for you. I know how much you’ve always done for me, please just let me do something back."

"Then please tell me what’s wrong! Maybe I can help, and you won’t have to feel like this at all. Have you considered that?" She challenged.

Somehow he felt like it was going to be worse for his wellbeing if he had to start being honest about a bunch of frankly shameful feelings of inadequacy.

"Besides, we had a deal." She finished, cementing the fact that he was probably going to have to talk.

They did have a deal, after all. 

"Fine. But you first." He muttered, every bit the petulant child.

It was an immature response, he understood that on balance her issues were probably more pressing than his made-up problems, but he was willing to put off talking about his own through any means possible. The thought of actually acknowledging it, to his mother no less, was making him feel sick, something in his stomach clenching to the point that it physically hurt.

"I was… reluctant to talk to you about any of this, because I didn’t want you to blame yourself. You keep acting as if your decision to leave managed to kill him when it obviously didn’t. No one could have seen it coming and I don’t resent you for not taking over sooner."

"But it would have made everything so much easier." He argued, tired of the circles they’d been going in regarding the topic.

"I don’t think it would have, and in spite of everything I’m glad you didn’t, looking at how you’ve changed since you left I think it would have been too soon before. You might not have ever discovered the way you wanted to do things."

He just stared, unable to figure out a counterargument. Even if he’d wanted to ‘explore himself’ and Arceus, wasn’t that a pretentious thought, he still shouldn’t have done it in a way he knew would hurt her, maybe even intended to hurt her.

"So, promise me you won’t feel guilty for things we can’t change, especially when they aren’t your fault?" She asked.

"I’ll try. I just want you to be able to talk about him if that's what you need. You've been acting like he never existed."

"Alright then. I guess I haven’t wanted to talk about things because I feel… like I shouldn’t feel this way." She began.

Well, yeah. That was the one thing she had made abundantly clear.

Repeatedly.

"Because, and please don’t take this the wrong way, ever since I had you… I became used to being on my own. I thought I’d gotten around to being fine with it." She explained.

They both chose not to mention the nights of tears.

Gordie just nodded, wanting to show her he was paying attention without interrupting

His mom had always been lonely, it wasn’t shocking to hear her confess it. A teenage girl suddenly rejected by her family, leaving her friends and her home, the only thing remaining in her life something she was now fully responsible for looking after.

(Something that hadn’t even been part of the old life she missed.)

He didn’t blame her that it had all been a bit much.

Had he been lonely too? He wondered.

He’d been so isolated as a child that he hadn’t had the frame of reference to know what being surrounded by people felt like, so he doubted he could feel lonely. But at some point, after years of watching how thing were just a bit different for the people around him he’d felt… something.

It couldn’t be loneliness he told himself, just a longing for something different from what he had. Other people his age to play with, adults around him who didn’t have to spend most of their time working to keep everything afloat. The things he saw the children around him got to have. 

What had his mother wanted, when she watched the other people her age going about life?

"It didn’t feel like I had the right to be lonely though, when you were little. It felt like I was blaming you for something I’d chosen, and it just made me feel worse; like I was a selfish, terrible mom."

"I don’t see it that way, if it makes you feel any better. I get it. I mean, you wouldn’t resent the others for missing their dad just because they have you around. One person can’t be everything to you." He reasoned, surprised at the intensity with which he believed it.

She also looked a little caught out at the conviction of what he had said.

"When did my little boy get so grown up?" She asked, looking at him wistfully and proud, he thought (or at least hoped).

He just shrugged, feeling himself grow embarrassed at her sudden affection.

"Where was I… Oh yeah, then your stepfather came into my life. I’d not long taken over the gym and I wasn’t really feeling great about where I was in life. So when this cute guy started giving me attention, I really, really wanted to reciprocate but I was way too scared to." She admitted. 

He was smiling, he realised. Even if Gordie had never been overly close with his stepfather he had always appreciated how happy he made his mother, practically worshipping the ground she walked on. His memories of that time in their lives were vague; leaky and faded like a watercolour and he found that it was oddly endearing hearing it from his mother’s perspective. 

"I’m sorry Snowball, I’m being soppy aren’t I?" She said.

"No! Not at all, it’s nice to get to remember him." He replied, desperately trying not to discourage her when she was finally willing to talk about him in any capacity.

"Fine, I suppose if you’re willing to humour me…"

"Even though it took me ages to let him in, he didn’t give up. He was always so kind, so patient about it all. He could tell that I desperately wanted to open up to _someone_. So I did, after a while, even though I was certain he’d be driven away by the… less glamourous parts of my life." She continued.

His smile fell.

Gordie knew she’d been ashamed of the way they lived while he was growing up, wishing she could give him more, even if it had never bothered him. But he had no idea what her life had been like before, for everything they had to seem like so little; he couldn’t imagine what she had given up to look after him. 

"He wasn’t scared off… this guy who I really, really liked in a way I hadn’t ever before, apparently felt exactly the same way about me, and he didn’t care that my life was a lot more complicated than other girls my age. It seemed too good to be true, even his family were kinder to me than mine had been about it and I-.’ She cut herself off.

His mother was really committed to opening up this morning, but she seemed to realise she had gone further than she was perhaps comfortable with, never mentioning her family beyond that they hadn’t wanted her (hadn’t wanted _him_ ); refusing to talk about what they were like, even in passing.

He supposed she was also making it clear that she hadn’t loved his father. Not that he particularly cared, it’s tricky to be sentimental for someone you’ve never known.

"Carry on, you haven’t gotten to the wedding yet. Although, I actually remember that part, I just like hearing it." He laughed, trying to implicitly let her know he wasn't going to press her about her family.

"I still can't believe he actually managed to talk whoever was in the Ball guy costume into letting him borrow for the proposal. It was… completely ridiculous, I thought that they’d gone mad until he revealed himself." 

That was a story the pair of them had liked to tell a lot, having gotten into the habit of telling each specific part in turns when they were explaining it for the first time to someone. 

Something they’d never get to do again.

"He was lucky that you won the match then, wasn’t he? I imagine things could have gone very differently otherwise." Gordie replied, making his mother laugh in response.

But her laughter quickly died, and she seemed to be holding back tears as she continued.

"For the first time since I left home, I finally felt like I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life… on my own. Except now I’m going to anyway! Even if I wanted to feel like that again, I don’t want to feel it with anyone else; not after I had it with him."

Gordie couldn’t imagine that, caring so deeply about someone that you’d rather feel sad without them than happy with someone else. It didn’t seem like something he'd ever find.

"It feels like everything should have just stopped without him, but it hasn't. Everything else in the world has carried on, and I've got to as well. They need me." She said. 

Of course, that was never the way things worked out, he mused, as his mom started rubbing her eyes; trying to stop herself from crying.

"Things do carry on... But I don't think anyone is asking you, anyone is _expecting_ you to carry on business as normal."

"But everyone else manages it! Most people don't even have the luxury of just packing up work, every day they go in, and then they go home to their families and everything has to okay so it doesn't all fall apart. But it's not okay, I don't know how I'm supposed to be okay. I don't know how I ever did it alone."

"It won't be like that this time. You have enough saved that you'd be able to look after them if you never work again in your life, you've worked decades for it Mom. And you're not alone this time, they've got his family too. And me. Besides, you don't know that you'll never feel the way you did again." He said. 

"If I ever do this again, then it just feels like I’ll be betraying everything we had… And if I can’t be a good enough mom to the kids then It’s like I’m ruining something beautiful we made together; but I don’t know how to do it without him Gord… I’m so out of my depth." She confessed.

He wasn’t sure he could offer any real comfort; he hadn’t been able to last night after all.

"I know we struggled growing up, but I always felt like even if we argued sometimes, we were closer than most families; and then you left and suddenly something I had always been so sure of was flipped on its head." She said, and there were definitely tears again now.

They had been close, which was probably the problem. Too close and far too alike to be able to compromise on their issues.

"Then after what Opal said the other day it just feels like I’m constantly losing, I try to make things fairer, but I screw it up and everyone ends up feeling that I hate them and don’t want to spend time with them."

Why in the world had he told his mother about that before the funeral?

"I don’t really think that. I just get... clingy." He admitted. 

"All I want is more time." She sobbed, and suddenly he didn’t think she meant her children anymore. 

"I tried, I really tried to balance between you guys, but I should have tried harder to make us into a family who felt happy together instead, and now it’s too late!"

"That’s not your fault! I never put in the effort to be a part of the family, but this time I promise that I’m going to; none of those kids are gonna feel left out." He said.

"You were a child Gordie, you shouldn’t have had _to try_ to feel included! That should have always been my job, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard because you feel guilty about something you didn’t do wrong in the first place!"

"I’m doing this because I have a responsibility to you guys too!" He said, sharper than he’d intended.

"You don’t! You’re not their father! It’s not your job to look after them." She replied, volume steadily rising.

"It doesn’t matter! They’re my family, you’re my family; I love you and I want to do this for you! Why won’t you just accept that?" He shouted back.

He supposed her family probably hadn’t wanted to do that with him, nor had his own father. It must be hard for her to accept that someone actually wanted to, when he really considered it.

If only he had done so before he’d started yelling at her again, he thought sarcastically. 

Why were all of their attempts at heart to hearts devolving into shouting matches, he wondered.

What did that say about the state of their relationship right now?

Both of them seemed to have used up the little flares of anger they’d had, feeling silly in the aftermath.

"You know what I think?" She asked him, watching him with more levity than she’d had all morning, apparently drained of negativity by her outburst.

"What?"

"We need some friends our own age." She replied, wryly.

He found himself groaning involuntarily.

That was… fair. He and his mother really shouldn’t have been each other’s closest confidants; it made some topics practically impossible to talk about. But their lives had been so insular up until now, he struggled to imagine how he could start making friends at his age.

He refilled her drink and poured himself a cup of his own in the small peace that had arisen now they’d gotten things out in the open. The coffee had remained untouched.

"See? That wasn’t so terrible was it? Whenever you need to talk about it, I’m here." He assured her, glad to see her manage a small smile in response. 

They fell into a companionable silence, occasional sniffles cutting through the quiet.

Unfortunately the peace didn’t last all that long.

"Okay, your turn. And I’ve got a headache from crying now, so you better not try and back out!" She said.

Ah yes, that had been part of the deal, and really he should follow his own advice.

If only he felt at all prepared to talk about any of it.

"Alright. I’m scared that people are going to wish I hadn’t taken over from you." He answered simply.

It seemed like a good place to start.

She sighed, watching him with soft eyes.

"I’ll be honest, people don’t like change and it will probably take them a little time to adapt but there is no way that anyone is gonna hold a grudge against you when this is my choice."She said.

Oh no, he hadn’t even considered personal grudges from the people in her gym team, too pre-occupied by being seen as a let down by everyone in Galar.

"Besides, I think a lot of people will be glad that we’re pumping some fresh blood into the Circhester gym circuit." She said trying to be reassuring.

Only it wasn’t, because there was no way anyone would see it like that.

"I’m not 'fresh blood' mom, I trained there for years. I lost against you _for years,_ remember?" He argued.

"Gordie, you were a kid, and I never exactly went easy on you, did I? I think that as a leader you’ll have something to offer that I didn’t."

"What, a prodigious losing streak?" He answered, not bothering to hide any bitterness.

Her eyes were fixed on him, something too close to pity for him to be comfortable with playing across her features.

"I don’t think this is about the gym at all, I think this is about you." She accused, though not unkindly.

Which yeah, it was accurate, but she didn’t exactly have to say it.

"If you’re struggling with something, then please talk to me! Wasn’t that the entire point of this deal?" She tried to reason.

Again with the bloody deal!

"Fine! You want to know the truth? I felt like shit after our fight. I left because I wanted to feel a bit better about myself, and now it just feels like pretty much everything I did made me feel worse instead!"

This was a terrible idea, he knew, and yet the words started spilling out of his mouth at the exact time they were entering his head in the first place.

"You know, I didn’t really manage to achieve anything, while I was gone. I kept hoping I’d find something I could say was 'my thing', something where I wouldn’t be in your shadow anymore. Sure, I discovered I like rock-type Pokémon, but that’s hardly an accomplishment. I haven’t done anything special with them."

He felt guilty even saying that aloud, grateful that none of his team were out. He knew that they wouldn’t fully understand what he was saying, but they were pretty good at picking up on emotions, none of his being pleasant right now. It was hardly their fault that he wasn’t a talented enough trainer.

"Instead, I just kept being lonely and feeling sorry for myself, even though I knew you’d be the only person who actually cared if I ever came home. And to be honest after everything that happened I wasn’t even certain you would!" He continued.

At this point even Gordie wished he’d stop talking, but if he’d been compulsively suppressing all of this until this point, he now felt compelled to throw everything into the open, even against his own better judgement. Two years of resentment just crawling to the surface. 

"And to top it all off I came back looking bloody awful and apparently with loads of baggage. I’m probably less prepared to parade myself in front of Galar like an idiot than I’ve ever been! So yeah, I guess the issue is me." He finished.

Immediately he wished he hadn’t said a word of it.

His mother had spent the morning in various states of being sad, which was understandable considering they’d been talking about some of the lowest moments of her life.

But right now?

Right now she looked as if he had struck her.

Of course, parents generally don’t like people saying mean things about their kids, even when they’re true, and he’d just given her an entire speech about why her eldest child was terrible.

He didn’t understand what she was doing as she leaned towards him, bringing her hand towards his face. In fact it still didn’t seem to connect, even as she was wiping the wetness from his cheek.

When had that gotten there, he wondered.

"The last thing I ever wanted was to make you feel like this, or feel that we couldn’t talk about it… I’m sorry." She said.

Why did she keep feeling guilty for things that were his fault in the first place? Especially when he was the one who kept hurting her.

"No… I, _honestly_ , have no idea where any of that came from. It’s been a stressful few days, but I shouldn’t have said that… I didn’t mean that."

"I don’t think that’s the sort of stuff that just slips out unless a part of you means it." She replied. 

"Maybe somewhere then, but that completely snuck up on me. I don’t feel that way about myself, I promise." He assured her as convincingly as he could, unsure himself if it were true.

"Neither of us were in a good place after our fight sweetheart, and I should have remembered how easy it is for things like that to… spiral when you isolate yourself in that sort of space. I’m sorry."

"Don’t apologise, it’s been really helpful to just be made to talk about it." He replied.

That much, at least, he was certain wasn’t a lie. The conversation might have had his stomach in knots but ultimately, he was glad he’d finally been able to put his nascent doubts into words.

Just when he dared to hope the outburst could be put behind them, his mother approached him with another question, cautiously, as if worried for his reaction. 

"Gordie, why do you think you don’t look nice?" 

Bugger.

He’d been hoping that the ‘looking bloody awful’ part of his tirade had been lost among the rest, dreading the thought of making her sad again, but he couldn’t think of any lie that would be convincing enough.

Besides, it was annoying that she apparently wanted to pretend she couldn’t see the obvious.

"Okay, I may have been a tad dramatic about it. But you don’t need to play dumb mom. I know I put on a ton of weight." He said, trying for casual despite how humiliating it was for him to admit it out loud.

He could tell that his entire face was burning with the strength of his shame. But hey, he’s spilled practically everything else he’d been embarrassed about, why not go the whole way?

In hindsight it was probably the wrong choice to make, because she suddenly looked close to tears again. 

"Why… Why would you… Has someone-?" She trailed off, seeming to struggle to know what she wanted to actually ask.

This was something he’d known she’d take badly, given how defensive she’d been when he was younger and people made comments about his weight, even without taking into account her own troubles with this sort of thing in the past. 

He tried for damage control.

"Mom, I’m sorry. This is coming out wrong. None of this has been as… apocalyptic as I’m making it sound. I was just being over the top because it had been sort of building up and I hadn’t talked to anyone about it. I think I just needed to get it off my chest, you know?" He said, attempting to downplay his confessions.

Nothing on her face was letting him know if it had worked.

Finally she seemed to gather herself to speak again, but the sadness laced through her words was plain to hear. 

"But sweetie, if you’re feeling this way about yourself right now, maybe it’s not a great idea for you to take over. The last thing I want is to put you in a situation where you’re just making yourself miserable."

"No! I know how it must have seemed coming out all at once, but I promise It’s not like I’m obsessing over any of it, it’s just something I’m aware of every now and then. I guess I’m just scared that people are gonna think those sorts of things about me if I do become leader." He admitted, hoping that was the truth. 

How had they come to the point of having the opposite argument than had caused this entire mess in the first place?

"I don’t think anyone has thought that about you since you’ve come home Gordie. When you came to the reception everyone who remembered you kept telling me what an attractive young man you’d grown up to be. And how good a brother you seemed." She said.

Well, that sounded aggressively made-up to try and make him feel better.

"Honestly, they did!" She insisted. 

It was if she could read his mind, sometimes. Another mom talent, he supposed. 

"The appearance comments were actually borderline creepy at some points." She added, with a small laugh.

That managed to elicit a smile in spite of himself, yet her face turned solemn once more.

"But, I won’t lie to you sn-sweetheart…" She said, faltering. "People have made comments about my weight, along with plenty of other things, while I’ve been a gym leader; and when I was your age it did really get to me. I can’t promise that people won’t say cruel things sometimes because of your position if you do take over.’

Fantastic start considering he was far, far heavier than her, not even taking into account that he knew people tended to focus on... a couple of specific body parts when it came to his mother.

"But I can promise that pretty much everyone you come in contact with will only have nice things to say. You are a kind, talented, _handsome_ young man and I know for a fact that is what everyone will see when they look at you." She finished.

It sounded as much like a platitude as anything he had ever heard, but Gordie desperately wanted to believe her.

Logically he knew he should; fully aware that he didn’t always feel this way about his capabilities, or his body. While he wasn’t traditionally handsome, when he’d been traveling he received his fair share of positive attention, even as he’d gotten a bit chunkier.

Yet right now all of that felt so distant it may as well have been a dream.

As if sensing his doubt, she continued.

"You probably don’t remember when I first started that well, but I didn’t feel great about myself either. My body had done a bunch of weird stuff from having a kid, and I didn’t have the time or money to look after myself that well."

All of which was his fault, really. Besides, it wasn’t even as if he had any justification himself, like having birthed and raised a baby.

"But it felt so liberating when I started battling all out against opponents. For the first time in as long as I could remember it felt people were looking at me and actually seeing me, instead of just looking down on me. You can’t really look down on someone when they’re on top of a podium." She added, smirking at her own joke.

To a certain extent he could relate, never feeling quite so alive as when he was battling alongside his Pokémon; it was exhilarating and he always felt fantastic in himself for it, but he found he was always brought crashing down to reality eventually by a defeat (usually at the hands of his mother, now that he was thinking about it).

"But seriously, I’d been trapped inside my own head for so long that I couldn’t comprehend that people just didn’t see me the way I’d come to think about myself. I knew I was a good trainer, but It took me a long time to accept that people thought I was a worthy gym leader… or a hottie." She added with a mock shrug.

She was trying to be funny about it, but he strongly doubted people would ever consider him a ‘hottie’, even if they did by some chance come around to respecting him as a gym leader. That was alright, he really didn’t have any desire to find himself a pop-culture icon, he knew that some of the gym leaders were known to do modelling and endorsements on the side, but that didn’t exactly seem like his sort of thing. 

Really, he’d be happy if he could just manage to run the gym without dragging its legacy through the mud.

"Did you really manage to go from trying to convince me to go ahead with the gym takeover, to trying to dissuade me and then back in the course of a single conversation?" He asked, sardonically.

"I want you to try it, but only if you’re actually going to be able to enjoy it. I know I said that you were the person I’d trust most with it, but I also think you’ll find that it suits you more than you think. Just remember, there’s no obligation." She answered.

"I’ve already said I’m doing it! I genuinely want to give this a try; you don’t have to keep buttering me up." He laughed in response.

"I’m not! I honestly think that once you try it, you’ll get what I mean. It used to make me feel on top of the world whenever I was even in the building."

He hated that she’d lost something that made her feel that way. Although he supposed if he did succeed her then she could drop in and do sessions whenever she wanted, he was hardly going to stop her.

"I’ve actually got a couple of things I was planning to do today, to prepare for er…gym leadering."

"Yeah? What do you need?" She asked.

"First I need to re-dye my hair. I want to look my best, you know? And my best is me with extremely stylish hair." He said lightheartedly.

Well, he attempted to. It probably would have gone over smoother if he hadn’t just gone on a tirade against himself, probably convincing her he had absolutely no self-esteem.

It was there, he swore! He actually felt alright about himself most the time, he was just aware that others might perceive him less generously.

A strange expression had come over his mother’s face, and he was half expecting her to start trying to tell him that he always looked his best or some other similar sentiment.

Only, she apparently had very different ideas.

"Could you help me have a go?" She asked, looking a little embarrassed.

"You mean colouring your hair?"

She nodded wordlessly, cheeks reddening.

Was his mom suddenly having a mid-life crisis?

"I’ve never done it before, but it looks fun! I’m not thinking anything crazy; I’m not trendy enough to pull off anything like yours. Unless you think it will be weird?" She said, second guessing herself.

"Of course not! We can do that. I was actually gonna ask for your help with the second thing I have to do anyway, we could make a day of it if you want?" He said cheerfully.

"What else did you need?"

This was a… sensitive issue, and he should probably consider a diplomatic way to explain it.

Only, of course he wasn’t going to.

"Ishovedallmyicepokemoninthepcformonths." He answered, not bothering to breathe.

Perhaps if he spoke very fast she just wouldn’t understand what he said?

"You didn’t get them out yet?" She replied, having clearly understood all of it.

Right, five children, three of whom were extremely energetic every waking hour of the day. Of course she had.

"No, I did not. They are probably going to be in a mood with me, and my Frosmoth may actually try to freeze me to death."

"They have every right to be in a strop! But they’ll forgive you, and Frosty would never hurt you."

Frosty had been his first ever Pokémon.

She was also, incidentally, one of the most bloodthirsty creatures he had ever encountered. When she had hatched from her egg, a shiny Snom, they had quickly realised she had Ice Scales which, in extremely basic thinking, made her a surprisingly tough little bugger.

In short, a perfect match for the boisterous young son of an ice-type gym leader (if someone wanted to suck up to her that is). 

Once upon a time they must have been a good pair, he mused, based on the fact that she managed to evolve in the first place (unless she had cracked how to evolve from pure spite), but for the majority of his life she had been a creature of nothing but malice.

Frosty would definitely want to hurt him, he knew. 

"I was hoping you could help me pamper them until they’re expected to train, so that they don’t hate me and try to murder me. You are the expert after all." He said, trying to implore her with his best innocent child eyes.

"Alright! But don’t think I’m falling for that act. Things are gonna go back to normal here; I don’t want you shutting your Pokémon away all the time."

"Even my rock types?" He asked.

"Even your rock types." She answered, exasperated.

"Even Platty’s Torchic?" He questioned, smirking.

She paused, sighing heavily.

"To be determined." She finally replied.

"You’re the best. I’m gonna go get ready, you wanna pick out dye colours with me?" He offered, giving her a peck on the cheek before running upstairs.

They’d stayed in later than he’d planned this morning, but he knew those were conversations that were gonna have been inevitable at some point. While the others were away was probably the best time to air their issues, all thing considered.

Which reminded him actually, he should probably message Opal, having promised to keep his half-sister in the loop about everything.

Gordie: Hi Opal : )

Gordie: Mom is doing okay; she was a bit sad last night, but I think she’s feeling better this morning. We’re going out to do some prep stuff for when we reopen the gym, so don’t worry I’ll keep an eye on her until you’re back.

Gordie: How’s everything your end? 

He checked over what he’d sent, figuring he’d probably struck an alright balance between mom’s privacy and Opal’s peace of mind. Smiling to himself, he set his phone to loud hoping he wouldn’t miss if she replied. 

Getting ready didn’t require too much thought, or at least it hadn’t until he recalled that he’d blurted out that he didn’t feel too great about his size right now to his mom. Meaning she’d probably be paying way more attention to how he dressed and carried himself.

The thought was ironically, far more consuming than his self-image had been in the first place.

Still, one coat later and he no longer had to think about it. 

Going out shopping with his mother was strange, people recognised her automatically which meant that most of them were then able to deduce who he was in spite of the time he’d been away.

The moment of recognition on their faces was consistently humiliating, he knew that almost everyone who said hello to them, or gave her their regards for his stepdad’s death, had seen their fight (his crushing defeat), or at least heard about it from friends straight after.

Trying to push it out of his mind, he started helping her pick out what colour she wanted.

Eventually she found an icy silver-blue that she liked and wouldn’t stand out too starkly against her natural hair (each to their own he supposed), at which point she offered to take them to a hairdressers to get it done. But honestly, doing it yourself was half of the entire experience.

If she’d truly never done it despite nearly forty years of chances he was going to make sure they did it right, even if that was not necessarily by doing it correctly like a hairdresser.

"Are you sure you’ll be okay doing it?" She reiterated, sounding far more anxious than hair dye warranted.

"Yes! Believe it or not, mine ends up like that because I want it to." He laughed.

"I know! But I’ve got a lot of hair." She reasoned.

"Yeah but we’re only colouring a bit. First time I did mine I did the whole thing, and it turned out fine."

"You went fully blond?" She asked, suddenly intrigued.

He hummed in the affirmative.

"Have you got any photos of it? I didn’t see any before."

"I’ll have to have a check sometime; I was kind of eh on it, but then my roots started growing out and I realised that it was somehow way cooler that way?" He admitted, not wanting her to make fun of the fact that his hair had sort of been the result of pure laziness on his part.

Instead, she was just watching him, a funny look on her face that he couldn’t quite parse. Still, he wasn’t about to call her out on it, he knew that she probably had a lot of grief on her mind even though they were trying to distract themselves. 

They made their way to the Pokémon centre after buying the colours, planning to let his ice types out for a bit while they dyed their hair.

He didn’t want to send any of his rock types to the PC, feeling oddly guilty at the idea of doing so.

Going for a half/half split would be fairest he reckoned, there was no way he’d need more than three ice Pokémon in the off season. He was just hoping that they’d be able to get along.

But the problem with ice Pokémon was that… they tended to be kind of creepy.

He didn’t trust Mr. Mimes or Darmanitans just as a standard, they all looked like they knew something they weren’t telling you. Plus why did they look the same everywhere else in the world and weird in Galar? It just wasn’t trust-worthy.

It’s like Glaceons, why did they have a smug fringe? No other Eevee evolutions did, just the eerie ice-type one. 

Stuff like this is probably why he became a rock trainer, he reflected, suddenly a bit put out that there wasn’t a rock evolution of Eevee. 

In the end he took Frosty (knowing that if she wanted to kill him she at least wouldn’t make a secret of it) as well as a Snover, because it has a reasonably trustworthy face. His final choice was a little Bergmite. 

It looked like a rock, alright?

Just as they had been ready to leave, a child had nervously made their way towards them, and Gordie foolishly worried that something terrible must have happened.

No disaster had happened.

It was much worse.

The kid had come for an autograph from his mom, which yeah probably didn’t sound catastrophic on record.

Only it was, because he was meant to take over from her in a matter of days and we’re people going to start expecting him to do stuff like that? Was he going to be known and called out to every time he went out shopping?

He couldn’t decide which outcome would be worse; if they did or if they didn’t.

His mom could apparently handle all that stuff like a pro, which was bizarre considering that right now she was sat in their kitchen, surrounded by Pokémon and unable to have her hair dyed without acting like a child.

Not that he minded, he was willing to humour her, present circumstances considered.

"Are you sure that’s enough? Is it supposed to feel like something?" She asked, the latest in a long line of a multitude of useless questions.

Correction: He was _mostly_ willing to humour her.

"Great thing about our hair is that it will take literally any colour you put on it really well. Also I’m guessing that grey hairs are never gonna be a problem, right?" He asked, laughing at his mother’s mock offense at the mention of ageing hair. 

She was right about having a lot of hair though, his was just as thick but he’d never let it grow anywhere near the length hers currently sat at, and he found his troublesome enough as it was.

"Alright I’m done." He announced.

"Really, do I wash it off now?"

"Nope, you’ve got to wait for a bit. I’ll let you know when we have to wash it out." He explained.

She watched him with interest as he moved onto his own hair, lazily playing with his Pokémon for him as he was applying the colour. He tried not to squirm at the attention, attempting to focus on the Pokémon instead.

Frosty was starting to warm up to them once more (no pun intended), having been somewhat less than pleased when she had first been released into the house after months of confinement. The other pair hadn’t seemed to be fussed in the first place, but his Frosmoth had been accustomed to finer things in life, having been hatched practically a designer Pokémon.

He was still going to sleep with one eye open though, not entirely assured she wouldn’t try and kill him in his sleep.

There was something therapeutic about the almost absent-minded motions of running the dye through the ends of his hair. He always found his self-image was better off for allowing himself the time for small rituals like this. 

"Do you reckon this is enough?" He asked, trying to assess if the applied portions looked consistent; not that his mother would actually be much of a judge, he knew.

She agreed anyway, and he figured she was mostly doing so to try and be supportive.

While he waited he checked his phone.

Finally Opal had replied to his messages, and he was relieved to read they were having a good time at their grandparents. She was a good kid, still concerned about their mom; Gordie considered sending her a picture of the pair of them but worried she might feel left out once more.

Why was he suddenly so protective he wondered? Years of being unable (unwilling, he corrected himself) to get close to these kids, and now after the better part of a fortnight he was already becoming fond of them. 

Not a single part of this made sense.

Sat in a kitchen with his previously estranged mother dyeing their hair together; the pair of them outnumbered three to one by ice and rock type Pokémon and worrying about the feelings of four kids who had practically been strangers to him. If he’d been told a few weeks ago that he’d be here, he wouldn’t have believed it. 

Still, if he were being honest with himself, this felt nicer than anything had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, still writing about children's video game characters being sad, but I actually think they're starting to feel happier. For now.
> 
> Pokemon gyms are actually going to appear in the next chapter instead of just being argued about and not seen for 25k words. 
> 
> Also, once Gordie figures out he's a Chad, it's over for everyone in Galar.


	7. Warm Receptions, Cold Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the problems he'd anticipated taking over the gym come to pass. True to form the problems that arise are the ones he didn't see coming at all.

They’d come in early this morning to prepare, opting to reopen the gym for business with one of the less intense days they had on schedule. Just community classes today, open to anyone rather than just the trainers officially registered to his mother’s gym, which hopefully meant the expectation would be lower.

It also meant that more people would be present when Melony announced her impending retirement, and intentions for Gordie to cover at least the interim. Word of mouth was fast in Circhester, so he was sure that it would be common knowledge by tonight. It also meant that it was important to keep the other upcoming possibilities under wraps, at risk of literally the entire city knowing.

After all, it felt like people had found out about his fight with his mother faster than he could run away from this damned place last time something like this had happened.

He was prepared to face the backlash eventually, but hoped to fend it off for now while he settled in.

He grabbed one of the default uniforms, seeming wasteful to bother getting anything custom like his mother’s made when he might not even stick at it, or keep it an ice-gym. Granted stark white was hardly the most flattering colour on him, leaving him looking more like a cloud than a gym leader. But he found that it wasn’t plaguing his thoughts all that much; having spent a large chunk of his life in a number of variations of this exact outfit, putting it on felt an awful lot like coming home.

Stepping into the gym’s stadium for the first time in years afterwards felt that way even more so.

His mother’s gym really was a marvel, he mused, understanding why she was so eager to pass it into hands she trusted. The building had been a gift of sorts, from the league, after she managed to push her team from the minors to the majors; and they’d offered her a large breadth of creative freedom as a show of respect for her accomplishment.

She had used the freedom to its absolute limit, everything down to each individual stone and screw here by her volition.

The entire floor was blue stone inlaid with crystalline designs, but lit by the spotlights of the stadium it looked every bit as convincing as the icy paths in the next room over. Rainbows danced across the contours like morning’s first light against frost, his mother’s very own aurora veil. Along with the cold silver of the domed walls it felt as if she had carved this space for herself from solid crystal; to rule over with a cold grasp.

Years of watching from within and it never lost its novelty.

She was already stood near the centre, looking completely comfortable in this domain she’d built. The sheer size of the space made her look tiny from afar, and he wonder how the spectators were ever able to see her when she battled. Of course whenever she let her Pokémon loose, a sort of magic beneath the surface of the stone seemed to wake, creating a spectacle he was certain was impossible for the audience to miss. 

Would he be expected to tear all this down if he became a rock-type leader?

He highly doubted he’d be able to create something that inspired awe in challengers like this did if he designed one in its place. 

The air was brisker here than the lobby, and he briefly regretting the choice of shorts, before reflecting that if everyone else was expected to wear them he probably should too. Besides, he was certain he’d look more than a little silly if he opted for leggings underneath like his mom.

Who was currently beaming at the sight of him.

"You look so handsome, and so grown up!" She cooed, pinching his cheek as he got closer, as if he wasn’t firstly an adult man, and secondly wearing a glorified PE kit.

"Thanks, mom." He murmured in reply, not bothering to dispute it and cause an argument.

Besides, the last time he’d worn one of these he couldn’t have been older than 15, having emphatically refused to carry on training at her gym after yet another year where she’d declined to endorse him for the league challenge.

It made sense that she was getting a little nostalgic, and she wasn’t wrong, he _had_ definitely grown up since then (it was growing outwards that was his problem).

"You feeling alright sweetheart?" She asked.

"Mhm. A little nervous, but good nervous, I think." He admitted.

Which was undoubtedly true, probably just ragging on himself because of nerves in the first place. Making yourself feel worse was a terrible defence mechanism, but apparently that was what he was stuck with. 

"Don’t worry, you’ll be amazing. I know it. My lot are gonna arrive first anyway, and we can explain the situation to them before we tell everyone else." She reassured.

"Really? You’d think they’d be the ones to give me… _the cold shoulder_." He tried, receiving only an exasperated groan in response.

He was trying (failing) to be funny about it, but he was worried about that group’s response especially. Many of them would already be familiar with him, with his record of losing against his mother, and he was apprehensive that they’d find his appointment to the role nepotistic (which wouldn’t be entirely wrong), among many, many other things. 

He was snapped out of his reverie by his mothers hand on his upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before rubbing it comfortingly.

"I’m here. Anything goes wrong, I’m right here to help out." She said, before walking over to her bag and rustling within for a bit, victoriously pulling out a thermos with a flourish.

Alongside it she pulled out two of those little mugs that always made him think of camping, pouring some tea into both of them, handing him one of the steaming mugs. Moving to sit on one of the benches lining the side, Gordie began to sip his drink, grateful for the peace he and his mother always seemed able to share over a nice cup of tea. 

Shortly after, a small group made their way in, the noise of chatter breaking through the contented quiet they’d managed to create. He recognised some of them, presumably now the most senior trainers in her gym team, who were expected to turn up to help out even during the community sessions. Unlike the others who just volunteered, the little suck-ups. 

There wasn’t really that much point in it, but with all the money that was invested into league tournaments and the league challenge itself, it was always beneficial to show that the gyms had a positive impact on the public in Galar, even during the off seasons.

(He had no idea how gyms in other regions managed to keep people employed, not even televising the matches or charging entry.)

Chairman Rose especially seemed to emphasise his dreams of everyone in Galar living peacefully and prosperously alongside Pokémon, which translated to a lot of gym trainers being made to work with the general public to help them realise that vision.

Frankly Gordie found it impressive that his mother managed to inspire enough loyalty that this many of her not overly large gym team would volunteer for this sort of thing.

Though it only gave him more to live up to, he knew.

The ones who’s appearances he knew seemed to recognise him in response as they got closer. An utterly shocked look passed over their faces, matching the majority of people who had seen he and his mom reunited until now, and he swore by this point he could probably draw the expression from memory.

Four of them got a bit closer than the others, and seemed at ease doing so, and he reckoned they were probably Melony’s league challenge squad. Gordie scanned across the faces, hoping he’d be able to recall who they were.

He recognised Micah, who had been this gym’s second in command so to speak back when Gordie had left. A reasonable enough sort of bloke, but one who probably wasn’t too happy to see him considering he would have been Melony’s top choice for successor had he not returned. 

Alexander was the name of the man behind him if Gordie remembered correctly, standing next to a man who didn’t look all that familiar.

And a girl.

That was… refreshing actually. Women trainers at his mother’s gym were a rarity, the vast majority of the sign ups being men in the entire time he’d known her run it, for reasons that Gordie had strong suspicions had little to do with any inherent masculinity of ice-type Pokémon.

Considering how few of the sign ups were able to endure his mother’s training style and join her team in the first place, the number was cut down even further. That is, if they weren’t already put off by being surrounded by the numerous men who tried joining for no better reason than to ogle his mom, which happened more often than he found comfortable to dwell on.

Gordie had always hated how they’d managed to dissuade the trainers who sincerely wanted to train from doing so (and yeah, despised how they watched his mom). 

The noise died down without his mother even having to do anything, the rest of the trainers somehow implicitly understanding from the way she was holding herself that she had something to say.

"Hello everyone!" She opened cheerily. "I’m sure many of you remember Gordie, who used to train here a few years ago."

He just waved lazily at the mention of his name, trying to make the motion look casual. 

She never referred to him as his son while they were training and he in turn always called her Melony like the other trainers in her gym. It was to absolutely no end, the vast majority of Circhester fully aware of their relation, even without the uncanny resemblance they had (whoever his father was, he’d left none of that in Gordie). Still, old habits die hard, and she’d always been afraid that people would find it unprofessional if she brought her child to work in the first place. 

Some of the trainers murmured their recognition in response.

"Well he’s returned and agreed to run things around here for me, for a while at least. I hope you understand that it would be difficult for me to continue, considering my personal circumstances."

Their expressions suggested to Gordie that they were thinking about the ridiculous fight he and his mother had gotten into to avoid this exact situation, wondering exactly how this had happened. But no one objected aloud.

Yet. 

"Now, please don’t worry; he’s a very talented trainer, and I’m gonna stick around for a bit to make sure that everything runs smoothly. Plus he probably won’t bully you like I do." She joked. 

"If you do have any questions or concerns, now is probably the time to ask. We have some time before everyone is due to arrive for the day." He cut in, trying for authoritative.

Ignoring the fact that he felt like an utter tosser doing so of course, especially considering he was younger than most the trainers there.

A few question were thrown about, mostly trying to parse the future of the gym, and Gordie felt like a politician answering them; stoic, avoidant and, most of all, blatantly dishonest; telling everyone that they were still figuring out the details, and that nothing permanent had been settled yet.

But it was a damn sight better than just outright telling them that if he had it his way, he was gonna turn it into a rock-type gym and probably drive them all away in the process.

That was a problem he’d figure out later.

It didn’t feel like much time had passed before people from the public started making their way in, more than he’d expected but he supposed after the break his mother had taken many of them were just there to show their support.

Another explanation down and Gordie was actually starting to feel far less nervous about the whole prospect, the reality of taking over inevitably not meeting up to the elaborate scenarios he’d dreamt up in his panic over the past few nights.

Until his mother managed to destroy his new-found peace, that was.

"So, what are we doing for the first class?" She whispered, turning to him, face the picture of innocence. 

Crap. They hadn’t actually planned anything specific.

She’d done this on purpose he imagined, pushing him into a trial by fire (by ice). 

How had he managed to forget that brutal training was his mother’s trademark?

Still, if being a cruel teacher was one of her talents, being unwilling to back down was definitely one of his.

Besides, he could totally do this.

Years spent training here weren’t for nothing, and they’d spent a lot of time since the funeral talking over the sort of sessions it would be beneficial to run for each group of trainers who came in. On top of the advice he’d been given by Kabu and Opal at the reception he was probably more prepared than most people would ever be when starting this sort of job.

Reaching for the Pokeball at his side, he released Frosty into the stadium; feeling as ready as he imagined he ever would. 

The day went pretty well, surprisingly.

Although in future he was definitely going to plan the day’s classes ahead of time, for his sanity’s sake if nothing else.

Ice-Pokémon weren’t his thing, it was true, but he found that the time he had spent training with rock-types, and the very helpful trainers who he met in that time, had enabled him to connect with them more than he had the last time he’d done this.

He’d forgotten how breath-taking they could be, effortlessly elegant in the way they moved and sending dusty flurries of ice around the stadium as they did so. It had been magical to watch.

Sometimes he really hated how mis-matched they were, wishing that he could properly connect with them right now, if only to keep the members of his mother’s (or rather _his_ ) gym happy.

Unfortunately they were, on the whole, incompatible with each other. Sure they were pretty to watch, but it didn’t change the fact they were creepy little buggers when it came down to it.

Over the next few sessions, it often felt like he was learning just as much as he was teaching.

His mother’s trainers were definitely committed, treating him with the same respect they had her in all the classes he ran, whether the public were watching or not. Though he still struggled to feel like he was actually able to impart anything of value to them, he was making the effort to get to know them, to understand how to build on their strengths and compensate for the weaknesses in their battle style. 

He didn’t understand why so many trainers found themselves unable to connect and battle with more than one Pokémon at a time, himself knowing that if he we was allowed to carry more than six Pokémon into battle, he would.

Well, with his rock-types he would at least, already starting to get a little frustrated at fighting with ice Pokémon again.

Still, there was no point trying to work on something his trainers felt physically unable to do, which would serve to just make everyone feel uncomfortable (and wasn’t he well used to feeling that inadequacy?).

So he instead switched tactics, focusing on the individual strengths of their Pokémon and if there were ways they could diversify the move set. There were often useful psychic moves and the like, that could really send your opponents for a spin when they weren’t anticipating it. 

It was important to match it to the trainers though, having spent years using perfectly viable move sets himself, that even though he understood the strategy he just wasn’t able to perform with to their full potential.

No, figuring out how to make it work for each of them was essential. 

Unexpectedly, while he’d been trying to get a measure for his trainers it turned out that some of them had been trying to figure him out in return. 

The class this morning had gone well and most of the trainers were leaving for lunch, but Liana lingered behind, looking as though she had something on her mind.

"Is something up?" He asked, worried about what could be concerning the normally fairly easy-going trainer. 

"You don’t know who I am, do you?" She replied, catching him off guard.

"You’re… Liana?" He answered, quickly getting the impression there was something else he was expected to be aware of. "Did we meet before and I’m just being a self-centred git about it?"

He was absolutely certain she hadn’t joined the gym while he’d been training there, he’d remember if she had, and yet she was watching him almost expectantly.

Shit. He could feel his expression giving away his guilt and he doubted he’d be able to pretend he did indeed remember her like she seemed to think he should.

She seemed to be able to read the dilemma on his face, and put him out of his misery by finally responding.

"No! No! It’s alright. We never, er, actually talked or anything, but we were in the same year, back at school."

Ah, that explained it. She had looked familiar in the absolute vaguest sense (although he was surprised they were the same age), but he’d never been particularly social at school, and no one had ever been very social with him. Especially as he’d gotten older and started taking more time out for Pokémon training purposes, having been granted an absurd amount of leave for it, considering he never actually managed anything with it.

Still he felt bad though, clearly she had remembered him despite the fact he’d never really done anything to warrant it. Why was he apparently unable to do the same?

"Sorry about that, I wasn’t actually all that _present_ in school." He answered, while laughing nervously, hoping she understood it as a placeholder for "I remember next to nothing nothing from that place, please don’t take it personally."

"Yeah I get that. Half the time it felt like I was there, but like, only physically." She laughed in return, trying to push some levity into the situation.

He joined in, because awkward laughter seemed leagues better than awkward silence.

They started talking about the little parts of school life he _could_ recall; the more outlandish teachers, the weirder kids and where they were now, the times when absolutely ridiculous wild Pokémon had managed to break into the school grounds. 

"So, when did you decide to join this gym?" He asked, trying to take an interest so she wouldn’t think he was _totally_ self-absorbed by the end of the break.

"To be honest, I’ve always really admired Melony, ever since I first saw her in the majors. I would have tried to join back then if I’d had the chance, but I actually signed up for real only a couple of months after you… left." She finished awkwardly, realising her error. 

A couple of months after he was trounced in front of the entire city and ran away, she meant.

Would that never go away? Clearly, it must be in the back of the minds of most the trainers here. 

"Really? You should have told me back then! I’d wouldn’t have minded talking to her about it for you." He said instead, choosing to ignore the part about his absence for both of their sakes.

"There was no way I would have been able to do something like that back then! You were already, like, a fully fledged trainer, and I could probably count the battles I’d had on one hand." Liana replied.

"That sort of stuff doesn’t matter. Everyone has their first battles at some point." He reasoned. 

"I know, I know. And I get now that you’re actually super nice, but you and your mum are, like, kind of intimidating." She said, apparently unaware of how ridiculous it sounded.

He found himself outright laughing at the idea of someone thinking he was intimidating, especially back then. If he had to sum up his adolescence it would be as a little, chubby kid who wore tiny, white shorts more often than was sensible for anyone. Hardly striking fear into the hearts of, well, anybody.

"I’ll admit that’s not something that’s been used to describe me before." He said, trying to dampen down his laughs so as not to offend her more than he probably already had. 

"You say that, but I imagine a lot of people in our year had the same sort of impression of you. You were a bit… standoffish, and everyone knew you wanted to be champion. Most of them reckoned you could do it as well." She explained, not seeming annoyed at him thankfully.

That was an interesting picture actually.

Trying to imagine himself from her point of view was disorientating. Pretty much all he remembered from that time were people only talking to him because they were forced to by the work, or alternatively the sort of guys in his year who would make dirty jokes about his mom to him while making fun of his own weight and appearance in the same breath.

Secondary school had been sort of terrible, in hindsight.

But what had it looked like for everyone else? His mother was famous and respected across Galar, and she made no secret of the fact she was grooming him for similar success. Off the bat he’d been given his gym position while still a child, even though most adults would never get the chance to join her gym team, and now he was being given a major league Pokémon gym to run as he saw fit, and he hadn’t even had to earn it.

It could have seemed a bit much for someone looking in.

Probably because it was, thinking about it. He felt uncomfortable dwelling on it, aware that it wasn’t exactly fair. 

Gordie knew as trainers went, his talent was generally considered exceptional, although he felt unbearably arrogant acknowledging it, even just to himself. But it wasn’t as if any of the trainers on his mother’s squad weren’t gifted themselves and more importantly, they were actually passionate about the Pokémon this gym represented.

Their strengths all lay in different places, the raw power of Alexander’s Beartic very different to the versatility of Liana’s Cloyster, or the steady reliability and inherent superiority of Micah’s Avalugg.

(No, he wasn’t just saying that because Avaluggs looked like rocks.)

He was certain, that if given some one-on-one training from his mother, any of them would make a good gym leader in his place. 

As for Lewis and his Snom… Well at least it was cute?

One thing was abundantly clear across the board, however.

Every single one of them would hate him if he tried to enact his vision for the gym.

Despite his frustration with that specific conundrum, the classes were getting easier as the weeks passed, feeling more natural. His mother was tagging along to them less and less, finding that the work did suit him after all, both of them adjusting to the new normal.

His mother was also being unspeakably smug about the whole thing, but he didn’t mind, actually having a lot more fun than he’d expected. 

More often than not he was making his way home bone-tired, but the gratifying kind of fatigue where you at least felt like you’d achieved something worthwhile to be in that state. That suited Gordie fine, he’d never been the type to enjoy being listless, always needing something to occupy himself instead of just idly daydreaming his time away. Still, he hoped he got used to the schedule soon, still determined to make more effort with his half-siblings after everything that had happened. 

Though apparently none of this was much of a problem for Platty, who seemed practically glued to him half the time he was home, always pestering him to do something or other. Gordie found that the majority of the time he eventually gave in, and they’d go off in search of something to take up Platty’s attention for the next couple of hours, usually some form of acrobatic-esque tumbling or Pokémon training.

It was even more exhausting, but it at least made sure he was getting the chance to train with and look after his rock-types, helping him feel a little less guilty about not battling with them at the gym.

Somehow it still didn’t help with the emptiness left from being without them in his battles.

On the days he just didn’t have the energy, Platty seemed happy enough to relegate him to furniture instead, having deemed his lap the most comfortable thing in the house. Whenever he sat down (usually working on session plans for the next day) the clingy little bugger would occupy it straight away, curling up and cuddling into his middle, not remotely caring if his incessant wriggling was stopping Gordie from getting comfy himself. Arceus forbid he lie down anywhere, lest he wake to tiny hands nudging his face, or worse, multiple children climbing all over him like Joltiks.

Unfortunately, he could tell that his mother thought it was adorable; looking as though she was restraining herself from whipping out a camera every time Platty did it, meaning that even though he himself was not endeared (which was the story he was sticking to, him being caught absent-mindedly combing his fingers through the kid’s hair more than once notwithstanding) he didn’t have to heart to make him stop. 

But Platty was doing all the heavy lifting in this case; it was his other siblings that were Gordie main concern right now. Opal and he seemed to be able to see eye to eye on things for the most part but Pearl and Mondy still seemed a little distant and he had no idea how to build on their relationship, especially considering he was starting to get the impression they resented him for stealing their brother away (nevermind that he was also their brother, kind of).

That was one of two problems he was having at home.

Well, maybe _‘problem’_ was a slightly unfair way to describe the situation; but trying to figure out the reasoning behind it had been bothering him.

Apparently, at some point in the past two years it had become normal for Kabu to drop in for family dinners and spend the evening with his mother on a semi-frequent basis.

Initially, Gordie had assumed that it was a new development, deeply uncomfortable of the implications of him crowding his mother after his stepfather’s death that way, skin crawling with the memories of other men who tried this sort of thing on her through his lifetime.

But no, in a much weirder twist of fate, Kabu had managed to befriend her and her husband while Gordie had been away, despite no prior interest from either side, and his visits were a well-established tradition by the time his stepfather had passed. Which made sense really, considering Opal hadn’t seemed at all nervous at the premise of talking to him at the funeral, focusing her fears on her namesake instead.

It didn’t feel like it made sense however, the normally reserved gym leader currently casually sat at his family’s dinner table, engaged in conversation with a very animated Platty. Gordie had managed to skip the first few times they did this after the funeral, due to how hectic the gym had been, but his mother had made it clear she was expecting him to come and make an effort now that things were marginally calmer. 

Granted, he had said he wanted to, but he’d obviously meant with his family!

At least he was spared from having to enter the conversation for now, having taken to helping his mother set out the table and dish up everyone’s portions in the past few weeks; there was no harm in being helpful and this way it solved the issue his mother had been experiencing in regards to portion sizes, something she had been awkwardly fumbling with in the days following his _outburst_.

Clearly she was trying to do what she thought would make him happiest, the likely obstacle to that being that she had no idea whether he was trying to cut back and wanted less or was eating normally and would take the offering as a sign she thought he should try to lose weight, making him feel worse. She seemed to have avoided asking him directly too, probably worried it would set him off again.

Hence the volunteering, taking the choice into his own hands and hopefully sparing his mother from having to worry about it. He just hoped that Opal hadn’t caught on to any of the interim weirdness, feeling overly exposed at the thought of his half-sister being privy to his little insecurities. 

Honestly though, none of it felt as pressing now as it had then anyway. He’d started running the gym, no one had died, nothing had exploded. He deserved to eat what he liked after working his arse off all day.

Sitting down themselves once they were done serving everyone else’s food, Gordie began listening to exactly what the kids were talking about. He didn’t understand how Kabu was able to look like he was actually listening intently to what amounted to schoolyard gossip from a trio of five-year-olds. If Gordie wasn’t still being grumpy about Kabu’s presence here, he might even admit that it was impressive. 

His mother was engaging with them in the same way, and he assumed that it must just be one of those skills you develop as you get older.

"How has running the gym been?" Kabu asked once their conversation finished, seeming sincerely interested.

Gordie began explaining how he’d been settling in, making sure to ask Kabu about Motostoke in turn. His mom was being extremely lively throughout the entire dinner, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. She had explained that she and Kabu were friends, but she’d never explicitly said it was fully platonic, and he just kept getting a weird feeling throughout the evening.

"Why are you being so friendly with Kabu?" He asked, maybe not as quietly as he’d intended, pulling her aside after the meal. 

"Gordie, sweetheart, I fear you may be a just tad unfamiliar with the principles of hosting." She offered in response, looking amused. 

"Yeah, but you keep acting like it’s a _date_ or something." He said, only somewhat childishly.

"It is a date." She replied flatly, met by dead silence.

What?

What was he supposed to say to that? He was cringing at the thought of it, mainly considering how recently she had been widowed. Plus, the age gap between her and Kabu was probably similar to that between her and himself, making the whole thing feel plain wrong, as unfair as it may be.

The only consolation was that Kabu had clearly heard, and seemed just as mortified as he was at her answer, which Gordie reasoned meant it probably wasn’t true. Unless Kabu just hadn’t want him to know.

Suddenly the sounds of unrestrained laughter filled the space, the sort of deep belly laughs he hadn’t heard from her since he’d returned home.

"I’m kidding!" She clarified in the face of their horror.

"That’s not funny mom! You can’t just say things like that!"

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease. I appreciate you looking out for me Gordie, but I’m a big girl, I can look after myself, and honestly who would bring five kids on a date?"

Her apology probably would have been more convincing if she wasn’t still badly stifling laughter; and yeah she could look out for herself, but it certainly didn’t hurt to have someone else looking out as well when you were in a lonely or vulnerable place. 

"I asked if Kabu could bring his Ninetales over for a _playdate_ with Vulpix." She elaborated, acting as if she wasn’t intentionally using the worst possible word choice.

"Right, of course. Makes perfect sense to make someone travel multiple cities away for a Pokémon playdate at this time of night." He replied sarcastically, trying to avoid the embarrassment of him having fussed over her as if he were her mother instead. 

"We have dinner too! It’s very normal among _friends."_ She said, emphasising the last word to make fun of him just a bit more.

"Although you are a very handsome gentleman, please don’t think I’m disputing that." She directed at Kabu, making Gordie wish he was back in Alola.

Kabu, for his part seemed embarrassed at the attention. 

"He keeps bringing Ninetales over for me, because I’m trying to figure out if my baby wants to evolve or not." She finally explained, as if that was a remotely normal method any trainer used.

He supposed it was a side effect of repairing some of the distance in their relationship, she was once more enjoying tormenting him just a little, no longer afraid that he’d leave again at the slightest provocation.

Although, in all fairness, he supposed he was reciprocating; raising havoc with Platty and his Torchic a lot of evenings, on top of indulging in a few small habits he knew got on her nerves. 

Kabu was watching the exchange, and Gordie regretted that he’d overheard him basically accusing him of being a creep, not to mention his mom and his infantile bickering about it. He knew he should probably apologise for it at some point before the man left tonight. 

They made their way into the back garden before releasing the pair of Pokémon. Gordie’s were still in the house and he considering bringing them out, but though better of it; a rock-type playing rough with fire or ice-types might cause a bit more pain than intended.

Vulpix seemed intrigued by her more fiery counterpart, who was sitting daintily at Kabu’s feet and awaiting his instructions, watching the rest of them with a steady gaze.

"What do you think then, do you wanna be a Ninetales?" His mother cooed.

Vulpix didn’t seem to understand, instead just lowering her front legs, trying to beckon the Ninetales to play with her. Upon Kabu motioning his hand, she did, the pair of them prancing around the garden. 

Gordie tried to picture how they’d look if Vulpix did evolve, the sight of which would probably belong on one of the overly realistic printed t-shirts that seemed to be sold at every market in Galar. Sort of elegant, but also extremely cheesy, and he could imagine someone writing motivational quotes atop photos of it.

"What are you expecting to happen, to know she wants to evolve?" He asked, not understanding her methods in the slightest.

She just smirked.

"Not sure yet, but I’ll know it when I see it." She answered, being intentionally mysterious in the most infuriating way. 

As the evening wore on they had managed to put most of the awkwardness behind them, having a much more pleasant time than he’d anticipated. Kabu was kind, and patient with the kids and their curiosity. Gordie could really see how he probably made a very good gym leader, even if he wasn’t known as the strongest of the bunch, having been usurped before in the past.

All in all, probably the opposite of the kind of guy he was trying to protect his mother from.

Which obviously only made the entire thing worse.

By the time he was ready to leave Gordie still hadn’t said sorry, apparently not mature enough to do it in front of his family. Kabu wasn’t waiting around like he was expecting one, however, slipping on his coat and heading through the door after saying his goodbyes.

Including one directed towards him that was friendly enough, in spite of what he’d done earlier that evening.

Swallowing his pride, Gordie headed out after him, quickly calling him over before he’d have to chase after him and risk making a scene.

"Is something wrong Gordie?" Kabu asked. 

"Look… I wanted to apologise; I was out of line earlier." He managed.

Kabu watched him stoically, raising a brow once he’d spat it all out.

"Oh? To be honest, I thought you were following me out to threaten me to stay away from Melony." Kabu said, seemingly unconcerned by the prospect.

Which was probably fair really, the guy was surprisingly jacked. 

"You don’t seem too scared by that idea, but I’ll have you know someone called me 'intimidating' the other day. You don’t wanna mess with any of _this_." Gordie replied jokingly, gesturing up and down his person. 

Which actually managed to elicit a laugh from Kabu, thank Arceus. He really didn’t want to get off to a bad start with the other gym leaders when he had only just taken over, and Kabu honestly seemed like an all-around nice person, his own misgivings alleviated. 

"Really, I am sorry though. There’s been a lot of guys in the past who have been… dodgy with my mom, and I guess I just get scared for her. But you’re not like that, and I shouldn’t have treated you like you would do that sort of thing." He said.

"It’s okay. I get that we don’t know each other all that well yet. I know that you care for her wellbeing Gordie, and I want you to know that I don’t have any ulterior motives for this. Melony and I are friends, nothing more." Kabu replied.

"Thanks for that, she needs as many as those as she can get right now."

"At least she has her family looking out for her as well. Your mother is an extraordinarily strong woman Gordie, she’ll pull through this." He added. 

"I’m still sorry though, I really didn’t have the right to get over-protective about it. You’ve been there for her a lot more than I have the last couple of years." Gordie admitted, familiar feeling of shame returning.

Shit. Shit. Complete Shite.

Why was he suddenly airing his issues to Kabu when he’d been trying to apologise?

Damn supportive, parental vibes.

Kabu seemed to realise that he was looking for reassurance of some kind (and really, Gordie needed to grow up and stop seeking it from everyone around him), attempting to tap into his decades of experiencing teaching to deliver advice. 

"Distance doesn’t always matter that much, with family at least. I’ve spent far longer away from mine, and I know we still love each other, even if they didn’t necessarily understand why I left at first either."

"I literally ran away from home." He replied, unimpressed.

"True, but I imagine your mother was in a unique position to understand you, having done the same herself around your age."

His mother had told Kabu about that? They really must be close, Gordie mused, once again upset that they’d missed so much going in each other’s lives. 

"I have to go catch my train, but if you ever need to talk don’t be afraid to drop in. You know where I’ll be."

"No! I mean… thank you, but I really did just come out to say sorry. You don’t need to worry about that other stuff, I’m alright."

"You know, you really are a lot like her Gordie." He said, smiling fondly. There was a sparkle of something in his eye as he continued.

"And I’ll let you in on a little secret. One of the first times she and I ever started talking as friends was when she found out you were in Hoenn, she actually phoned my gym's number in the middle of the day and just asked me to tell her everything about my home. All she wanted to know was that you were safe, and happy." He finished, making his way to go.

Gordie waved him off, saying their goodbyes, but he found himself completely distracted by what Kabu had said.

When she found out he was in Hoenn? His mother had never given any indication she’d known where he was.

At all.

He made his way inside intent on asking her to explain what Kabu had meant.

Only to find her standing a little ways down the hall, waiting for him.

Had she overheard?

"There is a little Impidimp upstairs, who has asked if his big brother can tuck him in tonight instead. Would you mind?" She said looking amused, giving no indication she had caught their exchange. 

"No problem." He replied, making his way up.

Apparently his questioning would have to wait.

He wasn’t remotely surprised upon opening the door to find Pearl and Mondy sensibly in their beds ready to sleep and Platty lay in the other bed in the exact opposite state.

"Come on, it’s bedtime." He said, glad to see Platty listen to him straight away, lying down at the very least.

Recalling how his mother had done this when he was young, he pulled the blanket and quilt over his brother, pushing the edges under him to make it snug and secure, hopefully stopping him wriggling too much and keeping himself awake in the process. Gordie knew he’d been a fidgeter at that age too.

"Good Night. Don’t keep the others up." He said, smiling so Platty would know he was only half serious.

"Night. Love you Gordie." Platty said, catching him completely off-guard.

That wasn’t something he’d expected to hear, but kids were meant to be good at this sort of thing, it was only adults who rationed love off as if they had barely any left to give.

He struggled to know how to respond, probably a sign he’d become an adult after all.

"Love you too Platty." He settled for, suddenly aware of the lump at the back of his throat.

Usually he wouldn’t consider himself a tactile person, finding it hard to know if a touch would be welcome or not. But he braved giving his brother a peck on the forehead, the little bugger was touchy enough with him after all.

Thankfully he didn’t pull away, and Gordie ruffled his hair, wishing him sweet dreams and all the rest.

Emboldened by it, he went over to the other pair and gave them a small hug, promising that they could think of something cool to do over the weekend.

Back downstairs, he was eager to focus on what he’d found out from Kabu, unsure how to broach the topic in the first place. His mother was sat in the living room with Opal, the TV on but no one really paying attention, and he wondered if it was worth asking about it while his half-sister was around to hear.

"How are the little monsters?" His mom asked.

"They’re alright, behaving for now."

Yep, he was really doing this. 

"How did you know I was in Hoenn when you asked Kabu?" He asked, deciding not to waste any time being delicate about it. 

Maybe he’d manage to catch his mother off-guard?

She just sighed. Unlike Opal who was suddenly sat intently, trying to act as if she wasn’t paying attention to them, like how she got with the triplets’ TV shows. 

"He let that slip then?" Melony asked, continuing before awaiting an answer. "Gordie, you registered the triplets’ Pokémon to our address."

Crap, he had hadn’t he? Owning non-Galarian Pokémon required a license, something he imagined he’d only managed to get for five of them by living in a household with both a gym leader and experienced gym trainer in the first place. But he hadn’t expected them to send any paperwork to this address!

Which meant that his mother had been given access to his full address at the time when he’d acquired them, over a year before he came home.

"Wait? You knew what I’d gotten them already?" He asked, only just realising the other implication.

"I did, but I didn’t want to ruin your surprise. Plus I wasn’t sure if they were for the kids or you." She answered, guilty smile on her face.

Opal was giggling slightly at his deflated response.

Damn. That probably explained why she hadn’t reacted with _complete_ horror to Torchic. 

He knew it was time to drop the rest of the topic while his half-sister was still with them, not wanting to make his mom uncomfortable by making her answer his other questions while they weren’t alone.

Instead he started asking Opal about her day, knowing that sometimes she struggled to get a word in edgeways when in the same room as the triplets. Which he could understand, finding it hard to handle their seemingly limitless energy himself at times.

Again, her answers always seemed more insightful than he reckoned he would have had at her age, and he was relieved that his half-siblings seemed to be living, on the whole, a more… _normal_ childhood than he’d had. They spoke about friends, and classes and everything else that was typical for that sort of age. 

He supposed maybe he was settling into that sort of thing a bit later than most people, wondering if he’d be able to consider any of the trainers at the gym, or those he’d trained with on his travels, his friends. Against his own expectations he’d kept in contact with some of them, and there was a bit of warmth in his chest at the prospect that he was finally getting all of this stuff right for once.

Once Opal had finally made her way to bed, Gordie went over to his mother wanting to clear the air about the rest of it.

"If you knew where I was, why didn’t you try and drag me back or something?" He questioned, moving onto the more pertinent issue in the grand scheme of things. 

"I knew you wouldn’t want to. I’ve been there myself Gordie, I know you can’t force your children home and seeing you’d registered those Pokémon here… It told me that you meant to come back, someday at least." She explained.

Now really wasn’t the time to explain he’d originally planned to ship the Pokémon over by trading system, when the triplets were a little older. Instead he just chose to nod to show his understanding.

"I’m so, so glad you did come back Gordie. I kept thinking about it, what would happen if you just never returned, and I couldn’t bear it. It felt like I’d somehow become my own parents."

"I wouldn’t have said no if you’d asked… after I’d had a couple of weeks to cool off anyway." He laughed lightly.

She smiled back at him, looking as fondly at him as she had when he was a much younger child. But there was sadness in her eyes, and he could take a reasonable guess what her concern was. 

"You’re _nothing_ like your parents mom." It felt a bit silly saying it about people he’d never met, but he knew enough to understand what he was saying was true.

His mother didn’t look all that convinced, so he continued.

"You wanted me home, you asked me to come back even though we were angry at each other. They’ve never done that for us." He said resolutely.

Only to be met with stifling silence, sudden tension appearing in his mother’s frame. 

"Well, you seem ominous all of a sudden. What is it?" He asked with as much levity as he could manage.

Which definitely didn’t match how he was actually feeling. They never really spoke about her family, but that had been one of their old unspoken rules, and he felt like he had a right to know about this at least, having been the reason they broke apart in the first place.

"My parents have reached out before, I’ve just… never accepted the offer." She admitted, volunteering no further explanation.

She was wearing the misty, far-away look he’d learnt to associate with her being lost in her past and utterly unequipped to talk about it.

"Oh, right." He responded dully, having both nothing and entirely too much to say in response.

Including a multitude of questions, not limited to ‘when?’, ‘more than once?’ and ‘did they mention if they still hate me?’. Though, he doubt he’d get any of them answered, the room having plunged into heavy silence once again.

"I think I’m gonna get an early night." She said instead, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek without focusing on him at all. "Love you."

"Love you too mom." He replied, apparently having ended a lovely family evening terribly. 

Really, love was the root of the problem.

Gordie had always known he hadn’t been wanted by her grandparents, had always wondered what was so bad about him that they hadn’t been able to love him the way he’d seen his half-siblings’ Nan and Granddad dote over them. They’d even pushed away someone they’d already loved just to keep him out of their lives. He’d long told himself he accepted it was the circumstances in which he was born, rather than him himself, but never quite managed to internalise it.

They hadn’t wanted him. His father hadn’t wanted him. Most the people who had entered his mother’s life when he was younger had been scared off by him.

There had always been a common denominator there, and he’d found it hard to truly believe there wasn’t just something inherently… wrong with him, feeling for most his life like he wasn’t someone who could be loved, except by his mother who didn’t really have a choice.

(Had he ever stopped feeling that way?) 

What would it mean if they’d changed their mind, even once?

Of course, he was getting ahead of himself, his mother hadn’t actually said how they’d reached out; what they’d asked for. It was very possible they’d just asked for money, once they found out she was a Gym leader; or that they’d asked her to give him up again and she’d never told him to spare his feelings.

The possibilities stewing in his head were worse than actually knowing, he imagined.

He made his way up to bed as well, the entire time brushing his teeth and getting ready to sleep unable to think of anything but what the truth could be.

That night he fell into a less than restful sleep, for once feeling as uncertain about his mom’s past as he did the future of her gym.

If there were any tears from his mother’s room down the hall that night, he couldn’t hear them over the sound of his own troubled musings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know who I am. I'm a sad bitch and I'm proud, hadn't even intended to write any of that mopey bit at the end it just sort of happened. This fic also apparently has a plot even if it's not apparent yet? I'm as surprised as anyone. 
> 
> Super interesting thing I found out while writing this, apparently I'm from the only part of the UK where people say always mom instead of mum? I don't know how common 'mum' actually is everywhere else, but I've spent my entire life thinking it was just one of those stereotypes people had about English people and that only super posh people said it. Apparently not though haha. So I guess I've accidentally given Gordie and Melony one of the must cursed UK accents, for which I can't even pretend to be sorry.


	8. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days nothing is wrong, but nothing is right either. The answer is usually sugar and crap TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More beautiful art to share, this time from twitter user @Fluorescent_Air. Go check it out!
> 
> https://twitter.com/Fluorescent_Air/status/1205743851647815681

"Who’s Oliva?"

The question was directed at him from his mother, completely unprompted. Everyone else was still asleep, taking the chance to have a lie in as they did every weekend; he’d grown accustomed to it, appreciating the quiet mornings when they came.

Just him, his mother, and the occasional cup of coffee that would inevitably go untouched, sitting in their kitchen like a ghost.

"Is that a crossword clue, or are you actually asking me something?" He responded, pulled back to the present.

"You have a huge parcel and the return address is to someone called Olivia, did you order something?"

Oh, that Olivia. That was pretty good news actually.

"That’s a bunch of the stuff I left in Akala when I came back, she just sent it back for me. It’s more than I expected though." He replied, eyeing the package.

It had taken it’s sweet time to get here, though from the size of the it he imagined she might have added some stuff he hadn’t actually asked for.

Offering to pay postage was probably the decent thing to do, her not mentioning it likely the result of them finding out his stepdad was dead. But Gordie couldn’t imagine it had been cheap to send over.

"You never mentioned you were staying with a girl." His mom said, sounding suspicious.

"Think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here mom, I wasn’t staying with her. She was just kind enough to go collect my stuff for me."

"Why haven’t you mentioned her before?" She asked, beginning a full on interrogation. 

"I have! I literally showed you a photo of her." He tried to defend himself. 

Granted, he hadn’t spoken extensively about what he’d been getting up to while he’d been away, beyond his initial explanations, not wanting to act like he was rubbing it in. But he was starting to get the feeling his mom was coming up with strange ideas of what he’d been doing when leaving her imagination to fill in the blanks.

Scrolling through the photos on his phone for one with Olivia in (avoiding the one with the cheesy poses), he was determined to stop those delusions in their tracks.

"See? I showed you her before." He argued, holding the screen up for her to see.

"Oh, Olivia is the pretty one?"

Oh no. She was definitely thinking something weird about this.

"Mhm, I suppose she is pretty. What exactly does that have to do with anything though?"

She began shifting uncomfortably, pausing as if searching for the right words to say, and he found himself suddenly very afraid of whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

"Gordie, while you were away… you didn’t…"

"Nope." He interrupted, already mortified. "We’re not having this conversation. But no, I did not get up to anything like that while I was gone."

It was as bad as he’d feared.

Really, he supposed he should appreciate that his mother’s genuine faith that he would have been able to get someone who looked like Olivia to reciprocate if he’d had feelings for her. But this was ridiculous, hadn’t they had the reverse of this exact conversation the other day about her and Kabu?

Mature as always, he was unable to not point out the irony of the whole thing.

"Didn’t we have nice, long talk the other day about how sometimes boys and girls are just friends? You were the one who said I needed more of them." He pointed out sarcastically.

"That was different! Kabu and I have known each other years."

Not for lack of trying, Gordie could not understand how the situations were meant to be remotely different. He levelled her with his best unconvinced stare.

"Don’t look at me like that. These things happen, you know. Young women and handsome foreign men coming into their lives, offering an escape from the monotony of their home. It’s practically textbook!"

"I’d say it’s more romance novel than textbook." He argued, focusing on the pedantic parts rather than how bizarre her reasoning was in the first place.

"Exactly!" His mother replied, as if he were just proving her point.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea.

"I was a bit too busy having a multi-region strop to be whisking anyone off their feet mom." He admitted. "You know I had stuff on my mind the whole time."

"So, she’s really just a friend then?" She replied, finally seeming willing to believe him for now.

"Olivia was… a mentor, kind of, she’s actually a really strong rock-type trainer who basically runs the island and she was helping me out with Pokémon stuff. No mushy romantic stuff at all, promise."

"Is she Akala’s Kahuna? She’s a lot younger than I thought one would be, but I suppose sacred Pokémon aren’t that fussed about age, are they?" His mother asked.

He hummed in confirmation, surprised at her answer.

Well, someone had clearly done their homework, he thought, still shocked at the apparent extent of his Mother’s Alolan cultural knowledge. Had she looked it up after he’d told her about his time there, or was that just one of those random pieces of information she had tucked inside her head? He certainly hadn’t known before he’d stayed there.

"I can’t believe she was willing to help you out on top of all her duties! Kahunas are meant to be super busy, right?"

She sounded impressed, rather than accusative which Gordie supposed was a good sign.

"Rock trainers are just cool people in general. Not that many people are into rock-types I guess, so when they find someone else who wants to train they’re super psyched about it." He laughed.

"So you’ve been learning from a few of them then? Is that why you kept moving around?"

This was exactly the sort of thing he hadn’t wanted to gloat about, knowing how seriously she had taken training him herself when he was younger. It wasn’t like he was trying to replace her, and he hoped she’d be understanding about it.

"Nah, it wasn’t really an intentional thing, I just met a couple of them while I was travelling and I was like, 'well that’s something I’m doing too now' and they started taking an interest." He explained

"You should see if there are any good rock trainers around here!" She suggested enthusiastically.

"Maybe, I haven’t heard of any around here though. I doubt I even have the time right now."

Honestly, he was glad that she was being supportive of his interests rather than offended, but searching for any rock trainers while openly running a major league ice-type gym seemed like he was just inviting trouble, still not having explained to any of his gym trainers the epiphany he’d reached while he was away. 

Though he was distinctly aware of how ridiculous the entire situation was, acting like a closeted teenager over bloody Pokémon typing of all things.

He’d put off his hopes of forming a rock-type gym for now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to dissemble the current gym team and form a new one by the time major’s tournaments and the league challenge were due to start.

It was one of many compromises he seemed to be making lately.

For the most part this was the sort of daily life he’d always craved, he was building a better relationship with his family than he’d ever had, on top of having a fulfilling job that paid well and allowed him to feel independent, really it was hard to ask for anything more. 

But he was aware that underneath the surface that familiar tension was sneaking back in, even in the face of the concerted efforts they were making to break with old habits.

Well, mostly.

Things had gone back to normal, or whatever resembled normal anyway, after their little dispute the other night over her revelation about her parents. And why wouldn’t it? He and his mother both had a lifetime of experience avoiding topics like that, some days as if they were walking over a minefield, quickly burying anything that did happen to be unearthed.

If nothing had changed over the better part of twenty years, then it stood to reason that not even her husband’s death could open her up, at least not entirely.

Neither wanted to make the other suffer, he knew that with his whole heart, but when it came to stuff like this it just felt like they ended up at this impasse where they were left stewing in discomfort and couldn’t, or rather _wouldn’t,_ do anything about it. Choosing to sit in lukewarm misery rather than risk actually hurting each other.

So he’d dropped the topic. Again.

It was… tiring, and it reminded him why he left in the first place.

Not that he was gonna do that this time. She needed him.

New rule he decided, thinking about the gym on weekends was illegal. Thinking about his communication issues with his mother was henceforth outlawed every day of the week.

He turned his attention to the parcel instead. 

The bastard box was hard to get into however, and he resorted to grabbing a knife to open it, very much hoping that he wouldn’t damage anything inside. His mother was watching, far too interested in what was just his own old stuff, and he really hoped Olivia hadn’t put anything inappropriate inside as a joke, not that it seemed like her sense of humour.

Thankfully it looked normal once he did manage to get it open, just the clothes he’d bought while he was there. He appreciated Alolan fashion; more colourful than most of what could be found in Circhester, maybe a bit flamboyant at times, but in a fun way and definitely packing a lot more personality.

When everyone else had been wearing it he’d felt brave enough to join in, but back here he wasn’t sure he was quite that willing to practically paint a giant arrow saying ‘look at me, I’m technicolour’ on his person (his hair notwithstanding). Aside from it being bloody freezing for them anyway. 

"Don’t think you’re gonna get much use out of those Gord, I’ve never known summer clothes be super popular over here." She laughed.

"Didn’t really think it through, did I?" He replied. "Might have to make some cross-country friends I can visit so I have an excuse to wear them."

Continuing to pull the rest of his clothes out, pausing every now and again to laugh with her about some of the more outlandish choices, he started folding it into piles ready to take to his room before he risked getting Vulpix fur on it down here. Why had he brought home a Pokémon that shed again?

His clothing piles ended a lot quicker than he’d thought they would, with a fair amount of parcel remaining. Sure, he distinctly remembered throwing out a lot of his older, too-small clothes back then, but did he really have so little to take back?

Underneath there was a note, he noticed unexpectedly. It explained that she’d packed in some extra things she hoped might cheer his family up if he shared them around, and he found some Alolan food and little touristy gifts – including some soft toys of Pokémon native to that region he was sure the triplets would enjoy.

It was such a simple gesture, but he was touched that she was going out of her way to do something like that after they’d only known each other for a matter of months (proof that rock-type trainers were clearly just nice people in general), and he really hoped he wasn’t going to cry at the note. Certainly it wouldn’t help his mother’s conspiracy that she was his secret girlfriend if he did.

Still, he’d promised the triplets fun this weekend, and unexpected gifts seemed to top that list already. He’d have to make sure to do something for her in response, something a little more personal than just texting a ‘thank you’.

For that matter, now that he’d actually gotten a taste of training other people, he reckoned he owed some form of thank you to the others who had helped with his Rock-type training.

He showed his mother the note, and the goodies she had included and watched her start to well up.

"Don’t cry or I’ll cry too!" He laughed.

She smiled back at him, shaky but sincere.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry about getting weird with you about her too. I was just-" She began, before stopping herself.

Apparently, they’d reached another one of those topics where his mother just flat out wouldn’t say a word on it. She’d definitely gotten worse at forming that perfect icy defence around herself, hiding her feelings, since he’d come home, whether due her husband’s death or their time apart he couldn’t say.

Worst of all he had absolutely no idea what this had to do with any of the other conversations she refused to have, which usually followed a logical pattern he could use to avoid them.

"It’s alright mom, we don’t need to talk about if you don’t want to." He reassured her.

She turned to him guiltily, looking stricken, and he regretted that he couldn’t seem to keep his foot out his mouth for long these days.

"But I do! It probably doesn’t look like it but I’m really trying Gord, it’s just… hard to break old habits, I’m sorry. I’m such a mess." She replied.

"You’re not! We’ve been through this, no one is expecting you to be 100% right now. I honestly appreciate that you’re trying, I don’t want to make things harder than they already are right now."

"I don’t want to keep pushing all this away because it’s easier to, Gordie we’re gonna talk about this I promise. Please just give me the time to figure out how I want to say it, okay?" She asked.

That was more than she’d ever offered him before, and he reflected that his stepfather’s death might have shaken her principles more than he’d believed. The entire foundation of their relationship lay on top of the secrets they kept from one another, and he struggled to understand exactly where they’d stand with that gone.

"Yeah, that’s fine. I just want you to make sure you’re comfortable with something before you start talking to me about it alright?"

She agreed and they turned their attention back to the box. 

Olivia had thought ahead and packed his shoes and heavier belongings under the items she’d included for his family, which explained a little towards why his belongings seemed so few. Putting the clothes back in with them, he told his mother he was going to pop them all away in his room.

Properly unpacking, his eyes caught a peek of the shoes he’d bought for running back in Alola, though he’d never managed to really take to it there. Cardio was already not necessarily his favourite thing, the climate there only making it worse, and he’d quickly become self-conscious about how stupid he must look doing it. Not wanting people to stare at the sight he must have made, red, sweaty and looking desperately out of shape.

Maybe he should try taking it up again? The temperature here was better for it, and besides since he’d come home it sometimes felt like people were doing nothing but staring at him anyway.

Except they weren’t sneering at him, judging all the ways in which he wasn’t making the cut. No, this was much more confusing to deal with, people hanging onto his every word while he was teaching, some truly bizarre people raking their eyes over him as if they could undress him with just that (and like that was something they’d want to do).

Nothing had equipped him to know how to deal with this, and ordinarily he’d ask his mom for advice, knowing she’d faced her fair share of it herself, except he wasn’t quite willing to admit it to her, too embarrassed at the prospect of saying it aloud and dreading how smug she would be about it after their conversation the morning following the funeral.

He shoved the shoes in the wardrobe, choosing not to dwell on any of it right now.

As he was making his downstairs he heard sniffles, barely audible, coming from the triplets’ room, stopping him in his tracks. He stood in place, listening closer, picking up on small, stifled sobs. He contemplated whether it was worth alerting his mother or if he should check on them himself. 

Choosing to brave it, he softly opened the door and was met with the sight of Mondy sat up in bed quietly crying to himself.

Shit, he should have grabbed Mom. Too late now. But really, what had he expected when he heard crying anyway? 

Crouching by the side of the bed Gordie tried to coax him into looking up, hand under his chin, which he didn’t resist but didn’t respond to either.

"Mondy, what’s wrong?" Gordie asked, as encouragingly as he could.

"Had a dream." He finally responded, barely able to string together words.

He’d been shaken by a nightmare? Gordie had absolutely no idea what to do in situations like this, wishing more by the second that he’d waited for their mom.

"Don’t worry. It was just a dream, everything’s gonna be okay now." He tried. Sure it was a bit of a platitude, but people used them for a reason, right?

Only, it had the opposite effect than he’d intended, the child now looking close to open weeping.

Why was he so crap at this when he needed to do it most?

"Let’s go find mom." He said soothingly, trying to mask his panic.

Scooping him into his arms, Gordie made his way downstairs before Mondy could become inconsolable and wake his siblings.

At the sight of him cradled and crying, his mother’s protective instincts seemed to flare to life, rushing over to them and taking him from Gordie’s arms into her own, carefully swaying with him in her hold. Rocking him gently in calming motions.

"Baby, what’s wrong?" She asked him.

"Had a bad dream." Gordie explained, knowing he was struggling to speak. 

Except Mondy finally reacted, shaking his head and curling further into his mom’s side. Gordie just helplessly shrugged at her, mouthing ‘he said it before’ and hoping she understood what he meant. 

With the sort of finesse that Gordie imagined only came with raising five children, his mother managed to elicit Mondy to tell them exactly what was wrong.

Turns out he hadn’t had a bad dream after all. He’d had a good dream and woken to a bad morning.

All the air seemed to leave the room when he revealed he’d dreamt that his father came home, and had taken a few moments upon waking to remember the truth, the words escaping between sobs and tears streaming down his face. Neither Gordie nor his mother were able to say a single word to comfort him.

Right now Gordie wasn’t going to risk saying anything at all, considering he’d accidentally reinforced to Mondy that his dream was just a delusion and his dad would never return while trying to make him feel better.

Nothing like remembering that your entire family have had the rug pulled from under them, and are mourning a hole in their lives to put your own problems into perspective, Gordie thought. 

Eventually his mom seemed to gather herself enough to speak.

"I have dreams like that too, sometimes." She said, so softly Gordie strained to hear it.

Mondy’s reply came even quieter, and he couldn’t make out what was being said.

"I know it’s hard snowflake." She whispered, laying a kiss on the top of his head and just letting him keep crying into her shoulder.

More muffled sobs came out and Gordie felt truly useless. What were either of them supposed to do? His mother’s concerns about the situation with her husband tended to be more practical, her grief had to take the rest of the world into account; but Mondy was so _young,_ barely able to comprehend all of it in the first place, what could they possibly be capable of doing to make him feel better?

His mother seemed to have an answer, if not a definitive one.

"You know what we should do? We should have a pyjama day. We’ll bring some blankets into the living room, cuddle up cosy, get some hot chocolates and watch whatever you want on the telly."

Mondy nodded along wordlessly, trying to put a halt to his tears, hiccupping and sniffling into the silence of the room.

"Do you want to wake the others up or do you want to just spend some time with me and Gordie for a bit?" She asked.

Mondy elected to stay with the pair of them alone for now, maybe so his other siblings wouldn’t know he’d been crying, and what had caused it.

Unfortunately they were actually missing some of what Gordie considered essential comfort foods (although he knew Olivia’s parcel would definitely help with this, it’s timing apparently impeccable after all) so he offered to go out and buy them, if only to grant Mondy some proper privacy with their Mom.

He wasn’t about to get ripped off for it at the corner shop, especially when he wanted to give his little brother time to grieve in peace anyway, but he sort of regretted his choice as he entered the nearest supermarket, disgustingly busy for a Saturday morning.

Sometimes he really wished the rest of the world could just stop for a minute, especially when his family were feeling the way they currently were.

Rubbing salt in the wound, he recognised a few people from community classes at the gym, some of who in turn called out to him, like he’d watched people greeting his mother weeks earlier. Right now when he looked a right mess, hair not done, wearing some of his sloppier clothes and picking a bunch of junk food.

Pathetically he’d felt the need to justify himself when a couple of them stopped to engage him in further conversation, explaining how he’d been sent out on a treats recon mission for his younger siblings, lest people think this was just how he ate normally.

As if they really cared anyway, he thought, unable to understand why he always reacted like this. How was he supposed to cope with people watching him whenever he was in public if he always assumed they thought the worst of him?

Why couldn’t he just be a normal human being about it for once? He thought, desperately wishing he could just shut his paranoia down.

He really needed to get a handle on it, he reflected while walking home, unlikely to drop his profile anytime soon if he carried on running the gym into the league challenge. Problem was that the thought of acknowledging it to actually do something about it made him feel worse than dealing with the doubts themselves, which tended to ebb and flow anyway.

Ideally he’d be able to carry on shoving it aside forever, but he feared that he was quickly running out of space to keep it all as more people seemed to turn their eyes on him.

Pyjama weekend was apparently in full swing when he finally returned, everyone else awake and cosy, leaving him the only one left in actual daytime clothing. He was suddenly very envious of the fact, considering changing back so he wasn’t left out.

"Gordie!" Platty called out at the sight of him, sat next to Shuckle on the settee. Platty wouldn’t be strong enough to move Shuckle himself, Gordie imagined, which meant that the filthy little traitor had gotten there himself.

The triplets were more fond of him than his other Pokémon, intimidated by their appearance (despite Gordie’s lessons on loving Pokémon even if they look scary at first), the exception to this of course being Frosty who they’d tried to befriend, only to find she tended to dump snow on their heads every time they went near her (apparently dealing with how boisterous he’d been a kid had been enough for her), leading to the mutual decision to give each other a wide berth.

"Hey!" He replied, trying to match his brother’s energy. "I bought snacks." He brandished the bag into the air in demonstration.

A wave of cheer that fell over the room, one which was probably too dramatic for just snacks; but one days like these, he supposed it was the little things that mattered.

"I gotta be honest though, I’m jealous how comfy you guys all look. I think I might have to get jammied up and join you." He said, depositing the food and making his way upstairs in spite of Platty’s protests.

Opal seemed to have caught on that something was wrong, and he imagined she’d presume something was up with mom if she wasn’t told, so he quickly text her explaining that Mondy had a dream that had upset him, to appease her worries.

Mom probably hadn’t been detached from Mondy long enough to explain herself, after all. 

Platty was even more disappointed when he skipped the living room once more, opting for the kitchen instead. Only to immediately let go of it all once Gordie explained one of his friends had bought them all presents that had arrived just this morning.

Suddenly all three of the little ones were in much brighter, more energetic spirits. There was a little squabbling over toy distribution, which Gordie didn’t get, considering they shared a room, but eventually they were settled and ready to cuddle, watch TV and just enjoy a lazy day.

Mondy took their mother’s lap today, still wanting to be close after his small upset this morning, while Platty took his customary place upon Gordie’s (and was that to do with him missing his father? Gordie considered worriedly, the possibility not having crossed his mind until now).

Pearl for her part was curled up by Opal; not entirely usual for her, generally less clingy unless she was trepidatious about something, but she probably just felt left out with how cuddly both her brother’s seemed to feel today.

They were watching the sort of telly the triplets loved to have on, overly saturated, loud and with plots Gordie honestly wouldn’t be able to follow if he tried. Still he didn’t mind at all, more occupied with laughing each time one of them tried to eat some of the food Olivia sent over, only to discover that it was a completely different flavour to what they’d expected; faces scrunching up in betrayed disgust.

At least mom and Opal like them he thought, and he’d been able to enjoy a few despite saving the majority for his family considering it wasn’t so much of a novelty for him. It was a shame malasadas wouldn’t have kept over the journey; he was deeply amused at the thought of the kids trying the spicy ones.

On that topic, he really ought to send Olivia something back for everything she had sent, considering just how useful it had ended up. A letter, or a parcel or something.

At the store he’d bought marshmallows and cream, among many other sweet things (really, sugary stuff was the only way to go in terms of comfort food) and they were able to use the fruits of his labour that evening to make hot chocolates that were saccharine to the point of being almost undrinkable.

Giving children already known for being overly energetic this much sugar close to night-time probably wasn’t a great idea, but after his blunder with Mondy that morning Gordie wasn’t enough of a monster to deny them it.

Although a lazy day in theory, Gordie had managed to get a lot of session planning done for the following week, falling into a familiar rhythm at the gym. It was definitely time-intensive work, and he could understand why his mother had chosen to give it up, considering the circumstances.

Though really, she still had that intense focus at heart, already planning to compensate for the lazy time they’d had today by taking the kids to a park tomorrow, tricking them into being active and burning off the energy they’d pent up.

Granted, she was a lot more subtle about it than she’d been when he’d been growing up, though that may just be a result of the fact they hadn’t become trainers as young as he had, a choice he could admit he was sometimes curious about.

Even without training, the others still had their schoolwork and a fair deal of extracurricular stuff that his mother kept on top of with ease, and really it was probably a good thing none of his siblings were Pokémon trainers yet, lest they be micromanaged in the same way he had (or worse now that she had more time freed up). 

Just as he’d expected, the hot chocolates had been a poor decision, all three of them behaving hyperactively when they were meant to have a bath, and highly resistant to being tucked in that evening. At least Mondy’s tears and grief from the morning seemed like a distant memory now, instead giggling in sugar induced excitement with his brother and sister, the trio adamantly trying to avoid falling asleep.

Although they certainly put up a valiant effort, they eventually lost. Not quick enough though, audible from downstairs for hours after they’d been put to bed (probably keeping poor Opal awake once she joined them upstairs), the quiet falling like salvation all at once.

Finally, he and his mother were left in peace once more. He lounged back on the sofa he was occupying, exhausted from herding the triplets (well, mostly Platty if he was being fair) even if they hadn’t actually been doing anything.

"Thank you for a wonderful day Sweetheart, you really are good with them, you know." His mother said, turning to him from where she was tucked up on the other sofa. 

"Yeah? Well I guess they’re sweet enough to warm my icy heart." He laughed.

"I can see how hard you’re trying with them. I really want to try as well."

"Pretty sure you already raise them full time." He replied sarcastically, attempting to mask how confused he was at her remark. 

"Not that!" She replied exasperatedly. "Earlier I said I needed time before I could talk. Well, I’ve had some and I’ve managed to figure out some of what I wanted to explain."

Frankly he’d expected she’d meant a lot longer than 12 hours when she’d said that, seeming like too quick a progression on her part to actually process things.

"You don’t have to force yourself. I like hanging out with the little ones, I’m only trying to make sure I do right by them. I know how much you hate to talk about that stuff." He said, jovially. "I mean, I get why you would."

His mother’s face turned serious.

"I’ve never been ashamed of having you, you know. Not even that I was as young as I was. I know it probably feels like I am, when I don’t talk about any of it, but it’s not that." She interrupted him, stopping his attempts at self-deprecation in their tracks.

"Yeah?" He simply replied, wanting to give her the chance to say her piece at whatever pace she was comfortable with, if she was apparently determined to do so. 

"I suppose… A lot of people tried to make me feel like I should be ashamed about it when you were little, or at least it seemed that way. I guess I stopped talking about it because I didn’t want to give anyone the chance to make me feel like that anymore."

Oof.

That hit a little close to home, having plenty of things others tried to make him feel he should be ashamed of. For him the line between shame and stigma had long blurred, making it hard to remember what he actually believed himself sometimes. He supposed he’d been holding his tongue about it too, in fairness to his mother’s silence.

"I’d never try and make you feel like that though, I definitely appreciate the whole existing thing." He laughed, trying to elicit one in response, considering how dark the topic could get if left unchecked.

She smiled back, sad and silent. He still wasn’t accustomed with her being this open with her feelings, though it seemed she was finally seeing him as an adult after all on top of obviously having more negative feelings she had to keep in check around the others anyway. The chance to finally let that go when they were asleep was probably a luxury for her, he reflected. 

"I know. But there’s a lot you don’t know about that time, and I’m scared you’ll resent me for all the things I could have handled better." She admitted.

Like mysterious correspondence with her parents where she refused to see them? Still, he knew the circumstance surrounding that were probably more complex than he could begin to understand, and it was hardly like he was perfect at conflict resolution, considering he’d ran away from home himself. 

"I’ve got my fair share of things I could’ve handled better too, remember? I’m willing to be understanding with that in mind." He reasoned.

‘Gordie, I’ve never blamed you for leaving. The beauty of eldest children is that they are, in large part, a trial run.’ She laughed wryly, before turning solemn once more. "I was harder on you than I am on them. I was learning too."

"Well I think you did a more than decent job, I know I wasn’t exactly an easy kid to raise."

"Don’t say that! You’ve always been a great kid. I guess I just didn’t tell you enough."

It was more that most of the people around them had made no secret of how difficult he was, how hard he must have made life for her. He appreciated her words for what they were though.

"Sorry if this sounds unbearably cheesy and a little sad, but you’re probably my best friend Gord." She admitted, slight blush on her face at doing so. 

It probably was more than a bit uncool, and Arceus knows he’d put up with an entire lifetime of ‘Mummy’s boy’ jibes directed at him even during the times they’d been very publicly butting heads, but he understood where she was coming from. They’d only had each other for much of his life, and remained close even when that was no longer true (on her end, anyway), similar enough that it was very easy for them to get along well, when it didn’t cause arguments instead.

"Maybe a little sad." He agreed, smiling nonetheless. "But you’re mine too."

"That’s why I have to accept that you’re all grown up now, and deserve to know about these sort of things, even if it’s hard."

She paused, pain present in the lines of her face.

"But I can’t talk about _them_ … It’s like every time I try to, my throat closes up and I can’t even breathe, let alone speak." She admitted.

This had been an issue for his mother longer than he’d been alive, he understood that it wasn’t gonna happen for her straight away, it was her that didn’t seem to hear him every time he told her that.

"That’s alright, thought we’d already established there was no rush?"

"I know, I know. I actually wanted to talk to about something else anyway." She said. "I was weird about that girl, Olivia, this morning; and I know I didn’t exactly explain myself."

"No, you didn’t." He replied wryly.

For once, his mother apparently decided to just rip the plaster straight off, briefly steeling herself before blurting everything out.

"I guess I panicked, because it sounded similar to how I met your dad." She admitted, wringing her hands nervously.

Well. That was certainly… a lot to take in all at once.

Seemingly understanding that he was too shocked to speak, she continued.

"I know that you wouldn’t do something like that Gordie, I was just projecting. I was scared that you’d just left a girl you knew there out of the blue, but I believe you that she was just a friend, I shouldn’t have been silly about it in the first place."

"Did my father leave you like that? Where was he from then?" He asked, not able to bother about her reaction to Olivia in the face of this new information.

She cringed just slightly, clearly reluctant to say.

"Don’t laugh." She said instead.

Why would he laugh? He just nodded to show her his agreement.

"He was Alolan, actually."

Alright, apparently that did warrant a snort, if not a full laugh, the irony of unknowingly leaving what was apparently his father’s homeland because of his stepfather’s death not lost on him.

"Really? I don’t think I’ve exactly got the Alolan look." He said, gesturing to skin almost as pale as her own again, travel tan almost entirely faded. 

"Gordie! Don’t stereotype." She replied disapprovingly, mock swatting him. "They’re not a homogeneous people. You should know, you lived there."

That was fair, there were some people of the pastier variety from Alola. He was just surprised to find out that he sort of counted as one of them. 

"You don’t look like him though, you’ve always been the spit of me."

"I am well aware." He replied, both of them having been informed countless times.

"Secretly, I always loved it when people said how much you took after me, felt like I didn’t have to share you with any of the people who weren’t there for you." She admitted. 

It was strange, hearing her perspective on it, having come to resent their resemblance as he’d grown up. Hadn’t it already been hard enough being in her shadow? Plus some traits just worked better for women than men anyway, not so appealing in him as people found them in his mother.

"But you know, when you came home I could see a bit of you in him for the first time." She admitted.

"Yeah? In what way?" He asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Superficial stuff really; he was tanned and blond, so when you came home with one and with half your hair bright yellow it was a bit… jarring." She laughed.

That explained her interest in wanting to see if he had any photos of his hair before his roots had grown out, and he reckoned it would definitely be worth taking a second look for her. Continuing this track of conversation seemed safe, although he imagined moving onto names and details would be moving closer to dangerous territory of why he left and was probably best avoided tonight.

"What did he look like otherwise?"

"I haven’t seen him since we were sixteen Gord." She said, though she didn’t seem upset at the fact.

"But back then at least he was shorter than you. He had messy hair too, though not spiky like you make yours, and he used to wake up like it."

Putting an image to the idea of a dad that had always been in the back of his mind wasn’t as strange as he’d imagined it would feel, there wasn’t any attachment there but there was a strange warmth he hadn’t expected at his mother’s smile, her obvious fondness, while describing him.

Didn’t it make her sad to think about him?

If it did, she didn’t show it as she continued.

"He was a bit chubby." She said, trying for dismissively casual, but her eyes subtly swept to him, as if to check for any offence or hurt at her words.

He wasn’t that bloody sensitive about it, surely?

"But mostly I just remember thinking he was cuter than any boy I’d ever met in Galar."

"Why _was_ he in Galar?" He asked, risking something a bit more revealing to sate his curiosity.

"His parents had sent him over for this research-y thing."

"Like a student exchange?"

"Sort of, yeah." She replied, consideration written on her face.

"We’d known from our first meeting that he was only staying for a fixed term, but you know how it is being young and reckless." She laughed, before quickly pinching his cheek. "Luckily sometimes the payoff is worth it."

He desperately wanted to ask why he hadn’t changed his plans after finding out, had his parents prevented him? Why hadn’t he done anything to support them when he’d become independent? But he had a fairly good feel for his mother’s boundaries and even though she’d been more open than he’d imagined she’d ever be willing; he could feel that wall approaching.

"Thank you for telling me this, mom. I really appreciate it." He said, choosing to close the book on the topic for today before she reached that point.

She looked at him in surprise, before averting her eyes slightly. Was she embarrassed that she’d been caught out? A slightly melancholy look passed over her, before she added.

"I’m starting with the easy parts, you know? He was a nice man Gordie, I’m sorry you never got the chance to meet him."

That was more than a little ominous, he thought.

"It’s alright, I think we did okay without him." He smiled, thinking of the life they were building now.

She’d raised him better than fine without a dad, without anyone else in fact, and even though she still had her doubts at times, today should have proved to her that she was doing well with his half-siblings too.

Plus this time she wasn’t alone, not like they had been before.

Sure they were all making compromises along the way, but he was hopeful that this time they’d really manage to heal the gap that had formed between them, that had culminated in him leaving all that time ago.

For the first time in a very long time, Gordie reflected, he could see a path ahead of him that he wanted to take. 


	9. Granted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanting something doesn't mean you'll get it, Gordie has known this for a very long time. 
> 
> But hey, none of the wishes you don't make are granted, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More beautiful art from @Fluorescent_Air linked below
> 
> https://twitter.com/Fluorescent_Air/status/1207671961146540032

The Monday feeling was in full swing when Gordie made his way into work that morning.

It was a relatively easy start to the day though, looking at it fairly. Just community classes again, and really he thought, couldn’t they just convert the gym to an ice rink or something in the off season? The public would definitely appreciated what Circhester gym was offering to them if they did.

These sorts of sessions were becoming muscle memory now, absentmindedly assisting the class while allowing his mind to run over other tasks.

Currently he was sorting through his schedule for the week, knowing he wanted to go shopping this evening to find something nice and traditionally Galarian to send with his thank you parcel to Olivia; that Kabu was coming over this Thursday so he should free himself for dinner. Opal was having a friend over Friday and begged mom and him to distract the little three, who were apparently known to show off whenever she brought friends home.

Mom was thinking baking, which he certainly wasn’t averse to, but he knew Platty wanted him to teach him how to do a front flip at some point this week as well which meant two things, one that it wouldn’t mix well with baking and two, he needed to add buying a soft mat to this evening’s shopping errand, at risk of actually being murdered if he let the kid get injured.

He couldn’t help but notice how terribly well domesticated he was becoming.

Vibrations in his pocket abruptly finished his musing, and fishing out his phone he was surprised to see his mom on the caller ID. She knew he was working right now; she wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.

Dread starting gathering at the base of his stomach.

"One sec, everyone. Think I have to take this." He explained.

He made his way off to the side, hoping for at least a little privacy depending on what came up. The class quieted down though, as though they could sense from how he was holding himself that something was up.

"Hi Gordie." He heard his mother’s voice from over the line.

"Hey. Is something wrong?" He asked.

"Er, sort of, yeah." She answered, sounding flustered.

She didn’t sound like she was crying though, he noted gratefully.

"What’s happened? Are you alright-"

"I’m fine!" She interrupted. "This is a public safety problem, and we could use some trainers."

Public safety problem?

That wasn’t exactly the answer he expected, although ironically he found himself relieved. He’d choose a problem that Pokémon could solve over an emotional crisis any day.

"Details? How many should I bring?" He asked quietly, feeling slightly panicked. Because sure, it was better than problems involving feelings, but it still wasn’t what they needed right now.

"Apparently a dynamax has been spotted outside the wild area, no one is hurt yet but it’s way too close to the city. Just bring a couple of my squad, I don’t want to drag too many people into this. I’ll text the location."

That didn’t sound too disastrous, gladly noting there were no injured yet. Surely they could keep it that way if they acted quickly.

"Alright, I’m on my way." He answered, hanging up.

His class were watching him expectantly, probably having picked up on the anxiety in his tone, and he padded back into the centre of the room putting all of his effort into forcing himself to be casual and in control.

"We’re going to need to finish this morning’s class here unfortunately, there’s a Pokémon related incident, and I’ve been asked if I can attend." He explained, unsure how much he was supposed to tell them.

Seriously, why were gym leader expected to do this sort of thing anyway? Galar really needed Pokémon rangers or something if you asked him, although he was amused at the prospect of trying to wave a capture stylus at a dynamaxed anything.

"Wait, can you four wait here a minute?" He directed at the league challenge squad, as the rest of his students started filing out disappointed.

He waited until the room was mostly empty before continuing, in a low tone.

"So there’s a dynamax way closer to Circhester than we’d like, and we’ve been asked to deal with it. Melony is already on her way to where it is, but would a couple of you be willing to come help?" He asked, certain that they’d be up for it.

It was a change of pace if nothing else.

Turned out that the actual problem was deciding which two would stay behind, eventually figuring out that if Micah and Alexander stayed behind they’d be well equipped to run the afternoon classes by themselves, having more than enough experience to do so.

Granted that left him with Lewis and his Bloody Snom (and did the man just not train at night or did his Pokémon hate him?).

Nevermind, between Liana, his mother and himself he was sure they’d be able to handle it anyway.

Besides, he’d be more than willing to take on one alone, at a time when the safety of others wasn’t at risk. He’d sort of missed seeing them while he’d been away.

His mom had sent over the location while he’d been explaining, he noticed. He knew the way and it didn’t seem too far in the grand scheme of things. He imagined they’d be faster on foot, beckoning the others to follow as he set off into a run, ready to chase down the source of the issue. This was the sort of time when actually using his running shoes would be useful, he supposed.

Some of the people in the town decided to bloody follow them, trailing behind trying to keep pace, summoned by the allure of mystery, as if tagging along with people known for crisis response when they looked in crisis themselves was a good idea. It obviously wasn’t, but he didn’t want to waste time explaining that to them.

On the bright side, he’d been right about the climate being much better than Alola’s for running, actually managing to enjoy the briskness of the air and the scenery of streets he hadn’t been down in years. Well, he’d probably be having a pleasant time if he wasn’t focusing on the upcoming battle anyway.

They managed to get there faster than he’d expected though. As they actually neared the Pokémon however, he began to re-assess his earlier thoughts about a solo battle; dynamax Pokémon were a true force of nature at the best of times, making it far easier to believe that it was these sort of primordial beings that shaped the world into what it was today.

But this one was on another level entirely, because clearly the initial discoverer had gotten mixed up and reported something wrong; this wasn’t a dynamax at all.

It was a Gigantamax.

A fire and rock-type one no less.

Ordinarily that was probably something he’d be able to appreciate; the Pokémon before them, he suspected a Coalossal (though he’d never seen one in this form), a complete behemoth, radiating the sort of amazing strength he’d come to admire rock Pokémon for in the first place. It was just unfortunate that they’d asked four ice-type (well, sort of) trainers to deal with it.

Bloody typical really.

A crowd of people had already started to form, unable to resist gawking in morbid fascination at the spectacle this was turning out to be, regardless of the obvious danger. Pushing his way through he was able to quickly spot his mother, trying to keep the crowd a safe distance away herself.

‘Mom, Hey!’ He breathlessly shouted to her, before remembering their unspoken rule about not acknowledging their relation while in uniform.

She didn’t seem to mind though, more concerned with the giant creature a little ways away.

‘Gordie! You managed to get here quickly.’ She noted gratefully.

As if he needed reminding, certain the sweat and force of the running had messed up his hair; the three of them panting for breath now that the rush of adrenaline was leaving their system. His cowlick kept irritatingly falling into his eye no matter how much he tucked it aside.

Right, giant monster was still meant to be priority.

"Yeah, but he doesn’t look all that tough. Don’t get why you even called." He joked lamely, sizing up their opponent.

"There’s something wrong with it. Look." She instructed, lifting her wrist.

It took a moment to figure out exactly what he was meant to be looking at, or rather, what wasn’t there to see, his mother’s own dynamax band not alight with energy as it probably should have been.

That was… uncharacteristic of the situation, to say the least.

The fight was quickly shaping up to be an unpleasant one, no dynamax at their own disposal, obvious type disadvantage and something clearly wrong with their goliath of an opponent.

Not to mention Gordie didn’t really like fighting wild Pokémon in the first instance.

When you were battling trainers there was the implicit understanding that their Pokémon were every bit as eager to emerge victorious, while Pokémon in the wild were usually just trying to stay safe and not be disturbed by humans.

Gordie just couldn’t enjoy fighting something that just looked scared; and this one, in spite of its fury, looked terrified.

(Well, to the extent any building-sized, flaming rock creature was capable of anyway.)

The sound of the Coalossal’s cry cut through the rest of the conversations, and he and his mother’s hand fell to the Pokeballs at their sides almost simultaneously.

Thinking about it, a lot of the people watching him right now probably hadn’t seen him battle since his last fight with his mother, and for once the idea made him smile. He supposed if they really had to do this he at least owed it to them to put on a proper show this time.

Leaping backward, he tossed Frosty into the fray. She was probably itching for a proper battle as well, the bloodthirsty little monster.

Only to find that his mother had brought out her Eiscue by the side of it.

Why hadn’t she brought out Lapras? Surely the water type would be more efficient here. Nevermind, now wasn’t the time to try arguing strategy with her; more concerned with the giant, furious Pokémon that wanted to flatten them to a pulp.

Their gym trainers to the side were slower to act, still staring in awe at the creature; probably not as accustomed to seeing dynamax Pokémon in person, his mother rarely needing to resort to it, even in the league challenge. As soon as they collected themselves however, they released their Pokémon into the area.

Outnumbered by their team, the Coalossal seemed finally aware that they were trying to provoke a battle. It’s body seemed to flare to life, enough heat emanating off its form that could be felt even from here.

His mother’s Eiscue started banging on her own stomach, the sound splitting through the open space. You could never tell what they were feeling while their weird ice cubes were up, but surely that had to hurt? Poor little bugger.

But at least he actually understood what his mother was going for now, very risky but hopefully effective.

It was definitely going to steal his thunder though, not that he really had the time to be concerned about that right now.

One-on-one it probably wouldn’t have worked; but a fair few of this things moves were bound to be physical and as long as Eiscue could keep its attention they might have a shot at finishing it off while her attack was still maxed.

Thankfully, the Coalossal charged towards the source of the sound, seemingly even more agitated by it.

His mother’s Eiscue took the hit, and her frozen defence shattered in the face of the attack, exposing the frightened expression underneath. Gordie wasted no time in setting her up to power through the next one.

"Frosmoth, make it hail!" He called out.

She seemed offended that she wasn’t getting a chance to attack yet, but did as he asked; knowing she’d get her turn soon enough.

Small chunks of ice started falling from the sky, pelting him as well as their Pokémon (surely she’d done that on purpose; none of the others had been hit), and he watched as her Eiscue’s defence reformed, hopefully giving them at least one more attack before their opponent would be able to do any real damage against it.

Gordie heard the cries of ‘Struggle bug’ and ‘Razor Shell’ from the other pair, suddenly very glad that they’d both brought dual types with them, the water attack especially buffeting it roughly.

The liquidation that followed from Eiscue hit it much, much harder than either, barrages of water leaving it roaring in pain. Any ordinary Pokémon would already be done for by now, swept by the sheer power of the streams, but this one seemed able to tough it out despite the obvious damage being dealt.

Unfortunately it seemed to have caught on that Eiscue could withstand it’s attack, instead directing its rage at the other two Pokémon that had hurt it. Throwing a mountainous heap of stone, heated by its own fire, the creature practically crushed Cloyster and Snom, even managing to catch Frosty and Eiscue with some of the debris, though Eiscue’s shield withstood for now.

It was a shame, because that was among one of the coolest things he had ever seen, but he strongly doubted anyone would appreciate him pointing it out right now.

The attack seemed to leave the space around them shimmering, the sunlight which until now had been mild and entirely typical of Circhester this time of year suddenly blinding in its intensity. He found himself wincing, struggling to see anything past the glare.

The hail had subsided which suited Gordie just fine. Hopefully, if it carried on fighting like this he’d be able to keep Eiscue’s Ice Face up for his mom.

They really should work as a team more often, he mused, inherently able to understand what the other was intending very quickly.

He could hear the movement of the crowd behind him, suddenly far less eager to be close to the action.

‘You two, get back. We can handle this!’ Melony called out.

Lewis and Liana backed away, retreating with their fallen Pokémon at once; ever his mother’s trainers at heart. He and his mom still had plenty of fight left in them though, himself actually slightly more eager to battle after seeing how strong this one was.

"Giga drain!" He commanded, hoping it would help Frosty feel a bit better from the debris hits she’d taken, the heat of which seemed to catch her again even though the assault had subsided. Plus grass-type move, so extra little bonus he supposed.

The little set they’d made for Eiscue’s defence was working out well, although it had almost failed when the creature directed it’s onslaught at Frosty, finally catching on that she was the cause of the repeated hail. The tough little thing had stuck it out however, whether out of care or spite against their opponent it was hard to say.

Without his mom’s dynamax band they wouldn’t be able to create a dynamax infused ball to catch this thing in the first place, meaning they’d probably have to fight it to the point of fainting.

In a testament to its strength, the Gigantamax managed to stick it out a few more rounds, but it was clear when it had finally run out of steam (no coal pun intended), the giant creature staggering and finally falling. For a moment Gordie was afraid it would faint at its current size, destroying everything around it, but the aura surrounded it intensified and the creature began to return to its intended size.

Crap, it still was going to fall though, large enough originally to cause some damage, without counting the harm it would inflict itself from this height.

He heard his mother yell his name, turning just in time to catch the Pokeball she threw towards him, clearly intending for Gordie to catch Coalossal before it hit the ground.

He was struck by how she’d considered he’d want to be the one to catch it, even given the stressful circumstances they were currently in. All the more reason not to fail, he though, tossing the ball towards the Coalossal with all the force he could muster.

Thankfully his aim turned out true, and the Coalossal entered the ball.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Gordie waited with bated breath as the ball shook, audibly exhaling for what felt like the first time in minutes the instant it stilled. The entire area seemed suddenly diffused of tension, the light returning to normal and the strange aura it emitted dissipating. He started going over to scoop up the ball, while his mother informed their audience that the show was over, and it was time to leave so they could deal with the aftermath.

Frosty blew a gust of icy air into his face, clearly understanding he intended to adopt another one, herself already not the biggest fan of his rock team back home. Not that she could really do much about it, the type disadvantage meaning her attempts at bullying rarely phased them.

He recalled her to the Pokeball as he made his way over to where Coalossal had landed, she’d worked hard and deserved a rest at the very least.

Only, the ball wasn’t the only thing that had fallen apparently. There was a small crater, with a strange stone inside. It wasn’t the same as the rock the Coalossal was formed from, but one similar enough that he wasn’t surprised no one had noticed it while the Pokémon had been plummeting alongside it.

"Melony!" He called out.

His mother turned to face him, mostly done with ushering people away, and he motioned her to come over with his hand. With one last order to the crowd, she made her way over to join him.

"Check this out. It’s not normal, is it?" He said, holding the stone up to her for inspection.

Faster than he’d known she could move, she pushed his arm into his chest, hiding the thing from view. Smashing the stone into his sternum had apparently been the best way to do this, he thought, irritated (and a little sore).

"I know exactly what that is. We can’t talk about it when there’s people around. If no one has noticed, put in your bag and we can deal with it when everyone has gone… Even the others."

Shit. What had they just found for his mom to be so panicked? Still, he did as she said hastily shoving it in his pouch as Lewis and Liana made their way over.

"You’ve got it captured then? What’s the next step?" Lewis asked.

A far more involved question than he knew.

"Do you pair want to pop to the Pokémon Centre? I don’t have any revives on me unfortunately." He lied, feeling guilty but knowing his mom was adamant about privacy for the special danger rock he’d stumbled upon.

The agreed, setting off and leaving Gordie and his mom secluded enough to talk.

"Meet us back here! We’ll wait here and decide the plan of action once you get back." He called out to their retreating figures.

He just watched the pokeball cradled in his palm, marvelling at the warmth he could feel. Was that from his exertion or was the Pokémon still emitting heat?

"You’re keeping it aren’t you?" His mom asked, when the others had gotten far enough away.

"The weird rock or the Pokémon? I mean, I’d like to think I’m too cool for a rock collection, but-"

"The Pokémon! That’s not a rock Gordie, it’s a wishing star!" She whispered harshly. "If that was with it then it’s probably somehow the cause of all this too. We need to hand it over to Macro Cosmos so they can look into it."

That small thing was a wishing star? He’d never actually seen an unprocessed one before. It made sense to hide it though, not choosing to tempt fate by flaunting something as valuable and easily stolen as one to the large chunk of Circhester that had come to watch the battle.(Well, his bruised sternum might disagree but that was neither here nor there.)

Shame about the circumstances though, he doubted the wishes counted unless you got to keep it.

"Damn. That’s the rock collection down the drain." He said jokingly.

But yeah, he definitely was holding onto Coalossal. He was a tenacious little guy (well maybe a rather big one actually), and Gordie was already sifting through his bag for revives and potions to patch him up a bit. His mother looked as utterly unimpressed as Frosty had, clearly aware of what he was planning.

"Don’t even try to deny Coalossals are cute, they’re smiley! How many other Pokémon are as happy as this guy is?" He argued.

"It wasn’t normal for him to have been like that there! What if he’s still affected by… whatever that was?" She reasoned in return.

"Okay, but look at his little face." He said, reviving and releasing him once more; to his mother’s horror.

"Gordie! What if he Gigantamaxes again?" She scolded quietly, still trying not to catch anyone’s attention. No one had stuck around to watch though; he wasn’t stupid enough to release him if someone had.

"Then he’ll listen to me this time and not hurt anyone. Won’t you? I bet you will." Gordie replied, descending into something resembling baby talk as he started directing what he was saying to the Pokémon.

"We don’t even know if he’s dangerous or not." She paused, considering him. "Besides, I know you’re a fan of them, but rock-types just look… kind of weird."

"That is my _son_ you’re talking about! He is a very handsome boy and you shouldn’t be mean to him." He laughed, gesturing with mock disapproval at his mom while making his new teammate drink the potion he’d grabbed.

He understood her misgivings against rock Pokémon, ironically feeling a similar way towards ice ones. But there was no way Coalossal had been responsible for this, having seemed more confused and scared than anyone else there.

There was no chance he’d be willing to abandon him after that.

"Hey, do you know rock smash little guy?" He asked the Pokémon.

"Gordie don’t you dare!" His mother interrupted, having caught on to what he was planning.

Coalossal on the other hand just cocked his head to the side, clearly enraptured by every word of his new trainer. Gordie grinned at him, laughing aloud, and Coalossal smiled back best he could in response.

"Can you break just a _little_ bit off this funny rock?" He asked, tilting the wishing star slightly out of the bag. "Mom, I take full responsibility if this goes wrong."

Thankfully, it didn’t; Coalossal more than strong enough to break of a fragment (and if Macro Cosmos asked, how were they to know it wasn’t damaged in the fall?).

"What are you even gonna do with that?" She asked.

"Dunno yet." He said, smirking like an idiot at the thought of having taken just a little bit of a wish. It wasn’t even as if he believed in this sort of thing, but rocks that fell from space were just plain cool.

He thought it would prudent to return Coalossal to the Pokeball for now, making absolutely certain the other pair didn’t see him out, but he promised him that he could meet the rest of Gordie’s team (and his siblings, which would be interesting) this evening.

There was a bit of waiting around for the others, and they spent the reprieve spit balling ideas for what could have caused this to happen. Conclusion? Her guess was as good as his; which was to say they had no bloody clue between them.

"Melony! Gordie!" Liana called out to them, having returned with Lewis. "What’s the plan?"

"You pair should go back the gym, help the others with the afternoon classes. We’re gonna go report this to Macro Cosmos, give them the Pokémon." He informed them.

It was of course, a blatant lie, considering he’d give Macro Cosmos Coalossal over his dead body. But what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

They looked wary at his decision but eventually listened to him. Though he darkly noted that he doubted they would have hesitated to follow if it had been Melony who had asked.

"Gordie, you didn’t need to do that, I can handle it." His mother said, once they were alone again.

"I know, but strength in numbers and all that." He said, wishing that were the truth behind his decision.

Really, the battle had been a bit of a knock to him, in spite of their overwhelming success. Both of his trainers had responded to his mother effortlessly, in a way that he felt they would never do for him. They just… weren’t _his_ trainers, not really, only listening to him normally because of his connection to their former leader. They probably saw the pathetic teenage boy who always lost to her each time they looked at him.

How could he prove to them that he’d grown past all that?

(Had he?)

It seemed that today the wheel of pointless paranoia he couldn’t control must have landed on the ‘competence and mummy issues’ category, he thought sardonically.

He just really needed to get away from it all for a little bit.

Fortunately Chairman Rose was apparently already on some business away from Wyndon, and would be able to meet them partway from Circhester meaning they’d probably have time to get the train there and back with time to collect the kids from school after the clubs they had this evening.

Train was a more sensible choice than Corviknight, considering the excitement of the morning as the least of their concerns. It also gave them a little time to properly calm down and have a little chat about what had been going on.

(It may have also had the added benefit of giving him the chance to touch up his hair in a train toilet, instead of messing it up via the flight.)

His mother had already been out when the incident was reported she explained, hence how she’d arrived on the scene so quickly.

She’d been out volunteering, with ocean and river rescue teams. It was something she’d done for most of his life, a large chunk of the Pokémon used there being Lapras that she had retired for becoming too powerful for league challengers, or simply unsuited to battle despite their breeding.

It explained why she hadn’t used Lapras in the battle, the poor girl probably a bit tired already. He just hadn’t expected that she’d start up again with that sort of thing so quickly after her husband’s death; though then again, Gordie knew his mother hated being idle as much as he did.

It had been years since he’d last accompanied her, despite the fact that it used to be one of their favourites things to do together (if he recalled correctly, the triplets’ births had stopped her going for a few years). He really hoped they’d get the chance to go together again someday, or even better take the others and go as a family. He couldn’t recall Opal ever going, though he was aware she may have visited while he’d been away.

The thought of the six of them going together brought a smile to his face that he found he was struggling to extinguish.

They didn’t see Rose himself, as it turned out, instead directed to his scary blonde assistant whose name he couldn’t recall. There was something off about her, as if she was constantly seconds away from snapping and attacking the people around her with a letter opener, and he couldn’t understand why someone so unpersonable had been hired as a secretary of all things.

She also just flat out wasn’t listening to them, probably influencing Gordie’s overall impression of her.

"It wasn’t at a power spot!" His mother argued.

Again.

"It must have been, Pokémon don’t just spontaneously dynamax, it’s not possible." She said flatly, shrugging in a way that suggested that she wasn’t all that concerned either way.

Why didn’t they care? Surely if any Pokémon in Galar was at risk of dynamaxing without warning, then this was a catastrophic concern.

"Miss Oleana I have a wealth of experience in this field I assure you, I have been dealing with dynamax Pokémon for decades. The first thing I do is prepare my dynamax band, and It. Wasn’t. Glowing." She explained firmly, emphasising the individual words.

Gordie never felt so much like a child as he did when his mother was getting into an argument with someone trying to undermine them. Unlike most the other things that made him feel young, this one made him feel safe, or protected at least; he’d always believed (and still did) that she was tough enough to take anyone on with her particular brand of cold formality.

"I assure you Macro Cosmos are working on this as we speak, everything is under control. We’d appreciate you handling any cases in future the exact way you did today, take down the Pokémon and retrieve them and accompanying the wishing star." Oleana explained.

"Why are you so sure that there’s going to be more cases? And like this one?" His mother interrogated in response.

There was a tick, a small almost imperceptible faltering of her expression then at her mother’s question, clearly wishing they’d just hand over what they’d retrieved and leave instead. But none the less, she answered.

"This isn’t the first incident of this nature; other cities have reported similar goings on. However, we are already getting a handle on the situation and that’s why it’s all the more appreciated that you stay vigilant, deal with it as you did today and communicate any incidents that do occur."

This had been happening elsewhere? Macro Cosmos must have been suppressing the stories so they wouldn’t make the news and worry people, he imagined. At the thought of it, it felt like the weight of the new Pokeball in his bag was suddenly pressing on him as if the creature had dynamaxed all over again. What exactly had they gotten into with this?

His mother looked similarly unpleased at the implications.

"Now can we proceed with the handover?"

Gordie rummaged through his bag, avoiding the Pokeball and star shard as if they were burning, worried he’d somehow tip her off to their existence if he touched them. Eventually, he fished out the rest of the wishing star, handing it over to Oleana despite his reservations to the contrary.

"And the Pokémon?"

"Captured safely." His mom said.

"Where is it?" Oleana asked firmly.

"In the PC." He lied, before his mother could give him away.

For her part she seemed to decide at once to go along with his lie, not correcting him despite her distaste for Coalossal. Right now, appreciated it more than anything else she had ever done for him.

‘You didn’t think it would be worthwhile to have it accompany you?" Oleana questioned coldly, clearly suspicious considering how little he had said up to this point.

"He seemed spooked, timid even and he didn’t get up to anything funny before we put him in, we just sort of assumed it was all down to the wishing star." He explained further, shocked at himself for being so willing to lie in this capacity for a creature he’d known a handful of hours.

In reality, having had some time to reflect on it, Gordie knew exactly why he wanted to keep this particular Coalossal safe, where this sudden protectiveness actually came from. It was one of life’s cruel little ironies, that he’d just had one of the smoothest, most co-ordinated fights of his life, teaming up with his mother no less, yet he hadn’t really been by her side at all.

Because clearly if his mother was the cold creature constantly building a perfect, icy face to hide her true self from the world, then he was instead her opponent, a rocky creature lashing out in fiery bursts, fuelled by a disquieted agitation even he couldn’t understand.

Wild Pokémon battles making bitterly accurate statements about your life seemed like a low point if you asked him.

"All of us here would appreciate it if you could retrieve the Pokémon, as we may be able to figure out something of value from it." Oleana emphasised.

"I thought you already had a handle on the situation? Are these Pokémon transforming repeatedly?" His mother replied.

Arceus’ sake, how had they become outright antagonistic towards each other? Though he appreciated her efforts to find out if Coalossal did pose any danger to the public.

Oleana on the other hand clearly did not appreciate it, standing up to face them down over the desk, a challenge that his mother responded to with relish. It was definitely time for intervention.

Gordie also stood up, trying to subtly manoeuvre his body between Oleana and his mom; clearly the secretary’s platform heels were meant for menace, leaving her noticeable taller than him and downright looming over his mother, something she was using to try and intimidate her. Sure, he doubted it would work, his mom more than used to squaring up to people much larger than Oleana, but her attempts were making his skin crawl, desperately wanting to defend her from it.

He was broad enough that his attempts to separate them worked out, but he doubted it was anything but abundantly obvious what he was doing.

Strength in numbers indeed, it turned out.

"Look, if these Pokémon are at danger of transforming again then we can go collect him for you. He just seemed terrified after everything that had happened, and we didn’t want to put him through more stress." He tried to reason.

The secretory looked at him sharply and he felt like a specimen on a pin board, a chill spreading inside of him. Despite that, he had apparently succeeded in whatever check she’d been performing; she was finally willing to acquiesce on the issue.

"I’ll talk to Chairman Rose about it, in the meantime I’d appreciate if you could remove it from the PC and keep a watch over it yourself. If anything does happen at least it will happen in the vicinity of skilled trainers, though I am aware he’s not necessarily your… _usual_ sort of partner.’"She said.

"We can do that." He said immediately, the offer seeming almost too good to be true.

"Then our business is concluded. Do you need to be shown out?"

They did not, in fact, need to be escorted out, never having been so eager to leave someone’s presence as they’d just been. Still, she couldn’t be too bad, if she’d been swayed by Coalossal’s suffering.

Somehow that ended up being the most successful part of the day, his attempts at finding a gift for Olivia once they returned to Circhester a resounding failure. There was nothing quite right, most the touristy stuff was too tacky, it would be fine for a child but for a grown woman? Probably not. She had done something so thoughtful for his family, he wanted to do something that would make her feel the same way they had when they found out.

Never mind, he’d managed to grab a mat for Platty, so he supposed the journey hadn’t been a total bust.

He’d just have to figure out the right gift some other time.

Some other time turned out to be only a couple of hours later, the perfect solution coming to him in a flash of brilliance.

"I figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" His mother asked at his sudden outburst

"The… er, rock I found earlier." He started, knowing he shouldn’t blurt out that he’d stolen part of a wishing star in front of impressionable young minds. Especially not ones who could tell literally anyone what he’d done.

"What about it?" His mother replied worriedly, looking around at the others in the room.

"I’m gonna send it to Olivia."

His mom’s tension deflated; he probably should have opened with that really, maybe having given her the impression he’d figured out why the star had made Coalossal dynamax the way he’d phrased it.

"You’re giving her a _rock_?" She asked, making no attempt to hide her judgement. "Guess she really isn’t your girlfriend."

He felt bizarrely offended by the remark considering she genuinely was a wholly platonic friend, but it was a good gift choice damn it! He had every right to be a little defensive of it.

"It’s a great present! She loves rock Pokémon; she wears cool rocks all the time and she literally owns a jewellery store. Plus it’s something you won’t find outside of Galar, it ticks all the boxes."

Probably should put a disclaimer in the letter that there was a miniscule chance it might turn Pokémon into giant versions of themselves, though. In the very off chance that did happen, he was confident she’d be able to handle it.

"That’s actually… quite sweet. When did you become such a considerate young man?" His mom asked, leaning over to pinch his cheek, a little mockingly but still affectionate.

"Mom!"

He really didn’t want her to give the little ones ideas by babying him, it was embarrassing! They were giggling along, clearly grasping how silly it all was.

"Oi, don’t be rude you guys. I’ve got a new friend, but he won’t want to come out to meet you if you’re bullying me." He said, pulling out his trump card to turn them to his side instead.

Immediately they silenced, as if by magic. Now in the face of their rapt attention, he found himself a little worried that they wouldn’t like Coalossal, or worse, that they’d be afraid of him. He looked over to his mom, silently asking if he could release him into the room.

She didn’t seem to mind, and he thought to himself that she must have fallen for Coalossal’s charm, or at least felt sorry for him after his ordeal earlier. It had been inevitable really.

"He’s a bit big, but he’s very friendly. And shy. Alright?" He asked, in way of warning.

They were all nodding along, so he figured it was probably safe to let him out.

Except, 9ft tall inside a house somehow seemed a lot larger than it did when you were outside, without ceilings to give you a frame of reference. Opal was watching him inquisitively from the sofa, but didn’t seem worried that he was here. Which was more than could be said for the others, who were suddenly not excited, instead looking scared though they were trying to hide it.

His mother was watching the whole thing inscrutably, but she wasn’t prompting him to return Coalossal to his pokeball, so he pushed forward for now.

It was upsetting watching them wary of Coalossal, considering that the poor Pokémon had been faced with an entire crowd of people reacting the same way this morning. Still, he was determined that this interaction go over smoothly.

Grabbing Coalossal’s hand, he pulled it into a waving motion directed at them, moving the Pokémon like a doll trying to demonstrate that he was friendly; though they didn’t seemed too convinced by the performance.

"He’s nice, come on I’ll show you." He said, beckoning them forward with his hand.

Only Platty made any move to come forward.

"I know he’s big, but how about I get you on his level?" Gordie suggested, met by a quiet nod in response.

Bringing Platty into his arms, he lifted him to the height of Coalossal’s face, watching as he brought out a slow, trepidatious hand. Ever the boldest of his siblings however, he began patting Coalossal on what constituted his muzzle, laughing in unbridled joy as Coalossal cocked his head in response, leaning into the touch.

"See? He’s very gentle, and he likes that I can tell." Gordie reassured, as Platty began to fuss him more confidently having succeeded the first time.

Seeing that there was no danger, Pearl and Mondy braved it themselves; climbing up and petting Coalossal. All three were surprised how warm he was to the touch, and Gordie found himself explaining how the evolutionary line used to warm the houses in Galar a long time ago; apparently having unknowingly retained that from history classes at school.

Opal waited until the trio had satisfied their interest, and turned their attention to other matters of dire importance for five-year-olds, before approaching Coalossal and giving him the approximation of a handshake; which honestly, Gordie found far more endearing than it had any right to be. Though he supposed neither of her Pokémon actually _had_ hands, so maybe it was a little bit of a curiosity thing.

"Is this the same one from this morning?" She questioned him unexpectedly.

How did she already bloody know about that?

"Where did you hear about that?" He asked, alarmed.

"Literally everyone has been talking about it. They said Macro Cosmos had taken it away." She explained quietly, looking to see if the others were paying attention.

Ah, made sense that it had made the rounds locally, though Gordie doubted it would make any large-scale news if none of the other apparent incidents had. Kind of creepy how it was being kept quiet, to be honest.

"I knew you’d adopt it though." Opal said smugly.

Opal was aware of Gordie’s current predicament in regard to rock versus ice types, unlike the triplets who didn’t really understand that Gordie Pokémon at home were any different to the ones at the gym (a good thing too, seeing as they couldn’t keep a secret for shit), but was he really that predictable?

Yeah, he probably was actually, he reflected.

Coalossal was perhaps a bit too large to have out in the living room all the time, more unlikely to knock things over than say, Shuckle or Binacle, so Gordie recalled him into the ball for now; committed to finding a more permanent solution.

Now that all of the novelty of the day was over for now Gordie was ready to settle into the usual evening rhythm again, asking the triplets and Opal what they’d been getting up to in school. It was strange that even on days like this that were so… outlandish, everything seemed to go back to normal when you had something steady to come back to.

It wasn’t a feeling Gordie was overly familiar with, though he imagined he must have had it once upon a time.

Later that night, once everyone had gone to bed he was finishing writing up the letter for Olivia; wanting to get it sent tomorrow in what was turning out to be a much smaller parcel than he’d expected. Hopefully, she’d appreciate the wishing star shard more than some pointless souvenir junk though (as well as him insisting to pay postage on the package she’d sent).

Still, if the wish had ever really applied to him in the first place (not that any of that crap was real anyway) he’d definitely forfeited it by now, giving away every part.

It really didn’t matter that he didn’t get to keep any of the star though, he reflected, understanding that it was the truth. Looking over to the new Pokeball nestled on his side table, Gordie was suddenly overcome with a rush of warmth and the accompanying feeling that his wish had already been granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting images in fics is hard, the things was resized into a pixel-y mess multiple times and I have no idea how it will look on other screens. I'm gonna look into how to do it properly though, there's some stuff in the future that could benefit from visual aids. 
> 
> To be honest I just thought making you read a pokemon battle was boring, hence why I added a doodle to this one, you don't get line or colour though because I have exams I'm meant to be studying for.
> 
> Physically uploading this was hell, AO3 was playing up like mad.


	10. Big Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're always being watched, it's the hearing what people find that's the issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no read?
> 
> I'd like to thank @Fluorescent_Air for more lovely art.  
> https://twitter.com/Fluorescent_Air/status/1208390132786589696
> 
> This chapter contains some more warped self-image, but you probably know the drill by this point.

It was getting dark earlier each day that passed, a clear sign that the winter was approaching, not that the freezing air of the Circhester evening ever paid any mind to what season it should be anyway. He should have taken a taxi, he knew, but he didn’t want to risk being recognised. Still, too much time alone with his thoughts was the last thing he needed right now.

Yesterday had been the longest day of his life, the obvious consequences of their battle with Coalossal quickly rearing their ugly head.

Obviously there was the inevitable; Gordie was not meant to be an ice trainer. Fighting against a rock-type was the closest he’d gotten to properly training with them in months, and somehow he had felt more alive during the entire thing than he had during his entire tenure as Circhester’s leader so far.

There was also the utterly unpredictable; some git had managed to take a bunch of videos while they’d been fighting and uploaded them to social media with (mostly false) details about what had happened.

Macro Cosmos kept removing the posts, but they were relentless, popping up as soon as one had been deleted. Thousands of people were seeing them.

But that wasn’t the problem, not really. The problem was the bloody comments.

They were just… _a cesspool_.

Honestly, he could deal with mean comments when they came, more than used to people trying to sling shit at him, usually after being thoroughly thrashed in a battle. It was the other ones that were the issue, the more _lascivious_ ones, that were probably meant in something resembling a non-hurtful way.

But the words they were using, the things they were bringing into focus just made him feel… _demeaned_. It was humiliating to imagine anyone thought those sorts of things while looking at him. Plus, for the love of Arceus, don’t describe a man as having ‘tits’ if there’s even the slightest chance he might read it; that should be an obvious ground rule, in his opinion.

He’d had to practically rugby tackle Opal’s phone away from her to stop her reading them at one point, having learnt his lesson well enough around her age about the sort of disgusting shit people would say about his mom when it wasn’t to her face. Young minds did not need to see that in relation to their brother.

It had resulted in an even more bizarre knock-on effect too; the number of people signing up to trial training classes for the gym team had suddenly shot up; having originally tumbled dramatically once people realised Melony was no longer serving as leader. Whether they’d just wanted to watch his mother, or had doubted his strength he didn’t want to guess.

Not that he’d done an especially impressive job while helping Coalossal, choosing to support his mother’s strategy instead, as the less confident ice trainer of the pair. 

It was all too much right now, he was certain that he was reading too far into all of it and needed some time away from the stress. Which is what led him to his search yesterday, only taking him a few hours to find a place not too far away that was open when his gym was closed.

Gordie had decided on… a disguise of sorts to go in, loath as he was to call it that. He’d tied his hair up in a way where a large chunk of the yellow could be hidden by a hat. By this point wearing any colour other than white felt like hiding right now; pictures of him in his gym uniform plastered all over, so he opted for darker tones. All the better to sneak off in, he thought to himself.

It wasn’t really _sneaking_ off though, his mother knew he was going off training… though he may have led her to believe he was going to find wild Pokémon rather than visiting a rock gym.

An amateur gym no less, something he was sure she’d find no end of amusement in.

The place itself was a little ways from the outskirts of Circhester, in a unit he knew the different amateur groups were able to rent out for classes; though he’d never actually set foot in one before.

As he actually did for the first time, he was half convinced he’d ended up in the wrong building. The room was… bare, resembling a small sports hall like the ones from PE at school; but there was some equipment sparsely littered about and benches off to the side where people were sat with Pokeballs. Though apparently no uniforms, he noted with interest. 

"You lost?" A voice came from behind him, making him jump more than his pride would bare he admit to.

Thankfully, the owner of the voice seemed friendly enough when he actually turned to face him. A mousy, slim man who looked inoffensive enough that Gordie reckoned he genuinely thought he was lost, instead of implying he should get lost.

"Is this the rock Pokémon class?" Gordie asked.

The man’s grey eyes lit up with joy, and Gordie found himself overwhelmed by the sudden attention he was receiving; surely he wouldn’t be this happy at some random person coming to try and sign up? There was no way his cover was already blown, he tried to reassure himself.

"Been bitten by the rock bug, huh?" He asked.

"Well actually, I do have a Shuckle who does that." Gordie replied. Because clearly he was a complete idiot.

Already, he was deeply regretting his choice to open with a joke, especially one that bad. Although from the way the guy was laughing, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was the funniest thing in the world.

"I’m Oliver, by the way. I sort of run this class." The man said, offering his hand for a stiff handshake.

"Gordie." He replied, not nearly melodramatic enough to bother using a fake name. (Well, he was, but why bother when you already had an elaborate excuse to be there if anyone caught on.)

He watched Oliver’s face for any spark of recognition, receiving nothing in response. He was blushing slightly, but that could be due to a bunch of things, like the temperature or just innate bashfulness. It didn’t necessarily mean he knew who he was, Gordie tried to reason.

"Are you here to train?" He asked.

The question caught him off-guard.

Throughout his life, the only gym experience he’d ever had was with major league gyms; namely his mother’s, which just so happened to be the third highest ranked gym in the entire region. You couldn’t just… turn up and train. Even the community classes required prior sign up, and that was hardly even actual training, rather just something they put on to help people feel closer to their Pokémon.

People who wanted to _actually_ train with their gym often spent years trying to get onto the gym team. Though at Circhester that may have been down to his mother’s particularly brutal style.

Really, it made perfect sense that in an amateur gym all of that would go out of the window, but he’d spent his entire life in a space where if you wanted to stay you had to prove you were worthy of it. As miserable as it was to admit it, he couldn’t imagine a version of Pokémon battling that didn’t operate under those principles.

"I can’t." He said, seemingly without any input from his brain.

Why had he gone and done something so bloody stupid? It was literally what he’d wanted in the first place, though he’d expected today to just be a chance to sign up.

Oliver seemed too shocked at the severity of the outburst to know how to respond.

"I’m sorry." Gordie said, nervously chuckling, trying for more casual as he continued. "I, er, was wondering if I could watch for a bit first? I’m... shy."

Shy? Was that really what he was going with?

Right now he wanted to whack his head against the wall until he was free from being conscious of his own terrible decisions.

It was certainly going to be fun trying to explain that, actually, he was an arrogant git who can’t stop himself from taking Pokémon battles too seriously if he did ever train with them after this frankly humiliating introduction. 

At least the people overhearing looked endeared by his idiocy, probably extremely flattered; after all how often did someone want to watch a bunch of amateurs train with one of the least popular Pokémon types?

It wasn’t a lie though, even if it necessarily been what he had intended to say. Pokémon battles at any level were incredible to watch. There was just something about it that got his blood _singing._

"That’s fine! If you’re shy then it’s great that you braved coming along in the first place. If you don’t mind me asking, what pushed you over the edge?"

Bugger. That was a hard one to explain without giving himself away.

"I dunno. I’ve had a sort of… crisis of identity lately." He said lamely.

Well, that was one way to explain that he was pursuing a life path he knew was wrong for him, but felt too guilty to leave. Seriously, all it had taken was a single battle with Coalossal (against him no less) to remember how Pokémon training should feel.

"Sounds deep." Oliver said earnestly.

Gordie just laughed.

"Don’t worry, nothing too heavy going on." He lied.

"Shi-, Sorry I got distracted! Class is meant to start now, and we’ve only got a couple of hours booked. Do you wanna sit over there to watch?" He offered.

Some of the others in the class were giggling at their flustered leader, but they seemed nice enough to Gordie as he passed and didn’t do anything that made him think they knew who he was. He sat on one of the benches, and settled in to watch, admitting that it was probably better he get an idea of the sort of people they were before he battled them anyway.

It was _electric_. Well, not literally, otherwise he had come to the wrong place after all. But the atmosphere was phenomenal, rock Pokémon facing off against one another in a proper test of strength. Now sure, the trainers’ technique was a little… unpolished, but their enthusiasm was palpable and their excitement to win was contagious. He almost found himself cheering aloud multiple times, only stopping himself because he’d remembered he was meant to be ‘shy’.

Though it was strange, Oliver wasn’t so much leading the class as co-ordinating the activities alongside another girl; both of whom would then proceed to take part in it with everyone else. It wasn’t a great way to teach, he reflected, no one objective and uninvolved enough to really see the ways their strategies could be refined. Though it was hardly his place to play judge, he’d come as a guest; this wasn’t Circhester and he had no right to try and tell them how to do things, he reminded himself, at risk of overstepping some boundaries from the outset if he wasn’t cautious about it.

The girl seemed to be the harsher trainer of the two, partnered with a Crustle which seemed to be doing a decent job battling against two opponents in a row. Gordie couldn’t claim to be super acquainted with the Pokémon, but he reckoned he got the jist of the appeal; when utilised well each time it became more vulnerable it would become more powerful, paired with a shell smash or two he imagined they would be proper powerhouses. Though he noticed she didn’t seem comfortable enough to play that strategy, not that he couldn’t understand, the idea of intentionally opening up your Pokémon to more damage an intimidating one, you’d have to have an unshakeable confidence in their power to do so.

On the third opponent her Crustle finally fell, and she made her way over to the bench alongside some of the other trainers that had been caught out. She made no move to revive the fallen Pokémon, so he picked one out of his bag to offer to her, meeting her surprised expression at the gesture.

"Is this for me?" She asked.

"Yeah, I have a couple. Never hurts to be prepared."

Alright, so that may have been a _slight_ understatement, he’d been carrying around more revives, potions and ultra-balls than he’d ever used in his life following Monday’s battle, worried that another unexplained dynamax could pop up without warning. He doubted that Macro Cosmos would be overwhelmingly pleased that he was using the resources he’d made them pay for like this, but they never had to know.

"You sure you don’t mind? These aren’t exactly cheap. I was just gonna take him to the Pokémon Centre."

"Honestly it’s fine! A friend bought them for me anyway." He offered in explanation.

She took it slightly reluctantly, and he hoped he hadn’t made her feel awkward somehow (and really he should have probably offered some to the other trainers), but it did the trick, perking her Pokémon up straight away.

Despite the fact they were ready to fight again, she made no move to return to the rest of the class, apparently out for the session now that her Pokémon had fainted once.

He offered his hand to the Crustle, chuckling as it started lightly grasping at his fingers with its pincers.

"I think he likes you! He’s usually pretty timid."

"He’s probably just knows that I helped wake him up." He laughed, moving his hand to gently rub at the little guy’s head now that he figured the Crustle would welcome it.

"No! You’re really good with him, do you work at a day care or something?"

Sometimes herding the trainers in his gym into working properly resembled what he imagined a day care to look like, but he doubted she’d appreciate the technicalities if he said yes and she discovered the truth. 

"Feels like it sometimes, but nah, I just have other trainers in my family. There’s always Pokémon around at my house."

"Other trainers? You should bring them along! We can always do with the numbers."

He struggled to envision the utter carnage if he brought his mother here, finding equal measures of humour and horror in the scenario.

"They can be… competitive." He tried. "Trust me, it would ruin everyone’s fun."

There was an opportunity here, he knew, to press her on her role in the gym; clearly having some stake in it from the way she was talking, though he didn’t want to think too deeply on why it mattered to him in the first place. He couldn’t get invested here; he had his own place to worry about. 

"So do you run stuff here too? I was getting that sort of vibe." He asked anyway.

"Yeah Oliver and I sort of try to juggle all the admin and leader stuff. I know, I know, we’re not really doing it properly if we train too, but we started this place because we wanted to find people to battle rock-types with other than each other, so it would suck if we couldn’t take part."

Gordie felt a stab of embarrassment, there was no way she could have figured out that he’d been a bit judgemental about it earlier, but he still felt caught out as if he’d been misbehaving.

"No I totally get it, rock-types are a bit niche. There’s not even a minor league gym for it; I checked."

"Wait? You were gonna try applying to a league gym?" She asked, suddenly sounding suspicious.

Crap. He’d probably given more away then than he’d wanted to there. Plus he felt unbearably pompous again, she’d definitely noticed that he was talking down the minor leagues when they should have been a step up. Others had too, he reckoned as he scanned over the bench, everyone paying a little more attention to what they were saying now.

"Again, more my family than me, I’ve never done a league challenge or that sort of thing, but they know some people in the league."

Like, practically every gym leader in the region.

"Honestly, I don’t think I can properly train at any gym, I just have this specific rock Pokémon I could use some help with, and I thought there might a place for it." He finished lamely.

Technically not a lie. You can’t realistically _train_ at a gym, if you run one. Still, he knew he was being extremely dishonest now and it was hard not to feel guilty about when everyone here was being so welcoming and he was just being a slimy git in response.

"Aw, you shouldn’t feel scared to train here, trust me I relate that you can feel a bit embarrassed about this sort of thing when you have league trainers in your family, because they can be… perfectionists. But no one looks down on each other here, if you wanna train next time you should go for it.’ She said, reassuringly. ‘Plus now you’ve got us intrigued about your mystery Pokémon."

Clearly, she’d read him like an open book, and he couldn’t believe that it apparently only took a single hour of knowing him to figure out that he was an insecure wreck, and related to a more talented trainer. What, did he just give off a vibe or something?

Granted, alluding to his mom’s connections in the league to try and mask his own definitely hadn’t helped. Within the next hour, they’d probably be able to write his bloody biography if he wasn’t more careful. But still, she was just trying to be kind, unaware of the ridiculous incognito farce Gordie was currently enacting, and he appreciated the sentiment of what she was saying. 

He spent the rest of the session talking with Kiera (it had taken him an embarrassingly lengthy amount of time to ask her name, having missed it at the start of the session) talking about the strategies of the trainers still battling.

It was tricky, he didn’t want to be patronising by pretending he was a novice trainer, but he also desperately didn’t want to fuck up any further after everything he’d inadvertently given away in the first half of the lesson.

He did the hat however, knowing that it wasn’t helping with anything. 

When the end of the class came he couldn’t believe it, checking his own phone for the time and shocked to see that two hours had just… slipped away without him noticing it.

He didn’t want to leave. Ever.

This is what he should be doing every day, he knew. 

Plus, they had treated him normally; no indication they knew who he was. Either his incognito getup had succeeded, or they had no idea who he was in the first place. He was beginning to get the sense it was the latter, feeling arrogant at his assumption that they’d know who he was by default.

It was fair enough that this place was in outer Circhester, but all the people at the class were fairly young; they’d have to live under a rock to not have seen any of the stuff online the past couple of days.

Which actually checked out, thinking about it.

Some people were beginning to file out, while others were milling about chatting. Their make-shift leader (Oliver, he reminded himself) was beginning to gather up the equipment shoving it into bags, Kiera having apparently abandoned him.

"Wait? Is this stuff yours?" Gordie asked.

"Sort of. Me and some of the other coaches around here buy stuff and share it, makes it feel more official, you know?"

Suddenly he felt inordinately guilty that he had an entire gym stadium full of equipment that was just left to rot whenever there weren’t any scheduled classes, when a bunch of trainers were resorting to building gyms of their own out of pocket.

The least he could do is help him transport it, considering he was too busy being a secretive jerk to offer them use of Circhester.

"Let me give you a hand?" He asked.

"You don’t need to do that! You’re our guest today, it wouldn’t be right."

"Please don’t worry. It’s the least I can do after you were kind enough to let me watch." He replied, scooping up two of the bags.

"Are you free to pop by next week? Maybe you could battle?" Oliver asked quietly as they carried the bags out, looking at him with shy expectation. "Only if you want to, of course."

It was undoubtedly the worst idea possible right now. The articles about him were still circulating so they were bound to see one sooner or later and he doubted his ‘disguise’ was that effective. Even if they didn’t figure it out from that, what about when the league challenge came? Was he just supposed to hope a bunch of trainers didn’t watch the biggest Pokémon event in the region?

He had to stop this now, before someone got hurt.

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world." He said instead, dropping the bags at a point Oliver indicated someone would come to collect them for a session tomorrow.

He slipped his hat back on and waved towards Oliver, still groaning inwardly at his decision to return as he walked off home.

However he couldn’t ignore the small warmth that hadn’t started when he’d caught Coalossal, ignited into a true fire now that he’d done this for himself.

Sometimes you had to make the right moment to do these sort of things, he mused, no longer content to wait the years he’d have to if he held off rock training full stop until he managed to switch Circhester’s type, if ever.

Surely he’d be able manage both, at least as a trial run?

He could totally do this. 

"You seem in high spirits this morning." His mother noted the next day.

Well, she was half right. Honestly, he was in conflict with himself, the horrible guilt roiling inside of him over his dishonesty warring against the euphoria of being free to do what he loved again. If he truly intended to keep lying to that entire class, he couldn’t carry on being untruthful with his mom too; knowing he’d definitely screw up at some point if nothing else. 

"I did something really, really stupid." He admitted.

"What happened?" She asked, stricken.

"I think I’ve accidentally joined a rock-type gym."

Her expression fell, and she visibly slumped.

"Don’t give me a heart attack Gord! I thought you’d gotten arrested or something."

"Okay, but I literally run a gym and I’ve managed to secretly join another one where they have no idea who I am, this is an emergency."

"You didn’t tell them who you are?"

"I panicked!" He said, throwing his arms up in frustration. "I know, I’m a complete idiot."

"You’re not an idiot." She said comfortingly, going straight into mom mode despite the fact that, no, he’d definitely done something completely idiotic this time.

"But how do you 'accidentally' join a gym in the first place?"

"By attending one when you say you’re going to the wild area." He admitted. "And then agreeing to come back next week when their leader gives you his best baby-doll eyes."

"You lied to me?"

Therein lay the issue really, his mother was making her best effort to be more forthright with him, even with topics that caused her pain, and he couldn’t seem to return the favour. 

"I’m really sorry. I’ve just had a weird couple of days, and it made me need to… escape for a bit."

She looked to him pitying (but understandingly) at that; it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a history when it came to the urge to run away, and a mixed record of acting on it no less. She pulled him into an embrace, cautiously, as if to ensure he wouldn’t just bolt out of the room.

"I get that everything has been a bit… overwhelming these last few days. And if you need distance from stuff sometimes, I’m not gonna smother you and make you stay. But please don’t think you need to keep secrets from me, I’m in your corner Gord. Always."

"I know, and I’m working on it. Really." He said.

"Good, because it’s not safe if everyone thinks you’re somewhere and you’re actually somewhere completely different. I don’t care how old you are."

"That’s... fair. I really am sorry about it."

"What _are_ you gonna do about the gym situation?"

"I’ll see what happens when I go next time, I don’t think there’s any need to tell them yet."

She didn’t even say anything, just levelling him with her best ‘I’m being stern but it’s for your own good’ look. That was a blast from the past.

"If they ask anything, I’ll tell them the truth." He tried to reason, knowing how flimsy an assurance it was even as he said it.

"You’re a grown man, I’m not gonna tell you what to do." She said in response. "But maybe you were a little bit right about acting like an idiot."

Apparently she was willing to let the topic drop for now, as ready to evade difficult conversations as they’d ever been.

"Are you still up for dinner with Kabu later? No one will mind if you feel like skipping this week."

"No, honestly I’ll be fine. I’d be interested to find out if anything weird has happened in Motostoke."

As it turned out, nothing weird had happened in Motostoke. Yet, Kabu had stressed over dinner, convinced that it was only a matter of time. Apparently he’d still been busy however, helping out with a few incidents scattered between Hulbury and Turffield, because he was close to the gym leaders of the cities.

Gordie hadn’t met either of them himself, though he’d been told they were both around his age; they’d meet eventually he knew, and he didn’t want to look into them ahead of time, imagining he’d probably just get paranoid trying to figure out what sort of people they were, historically not doing well around his own age-group.

It was better to save himself the bother, he knew.

The continued theorising around the table pulled him out of his reverie.

"It can’t be natural, there’s no record of it in all of Galar’s history, and now this many incidents out of the blue? Someone is doing this." Kabu said.

"What do you think is the purpose behind it then?" His mother asked.

"Wake up a legendary Pokémon and take over the world, I imagine." He answered, far too casually considering what he was describing.

"That feels like a bit of dramatic conclusion to jump to." Gordie interrupted.

Why couldn’t it be the classic sort of celestial alignment makes everything go weird?

"Isn’t that always what it is in the end though?" Kabu asked in response. 

Well… he’d give him that one. 

It did seem to be the point of intersection between fairy tales and history books, countless stories of man’s hubris in trying to summon creatures beyond their control and the grisly downfalls they inevitably faced.

Still, he hoped it was nothing that dramatic. Wasn’t trying to run the gym stressful enough without a potential apocalypse?

Gordie quickly looked towards the little three to check if the conversation was distressing them. But they were just staring raptly, looking more excited each time someone spoke, as if what was happening right now was straight from the plot of one of those shows they loved. Honestly, it could have been in terms of sheer lack of realism, and Gordie couldn’t understand how his life had come to this point. 

"This is probably just some freak occurrence, there’s no need for us all to get overexcited about it. Besides, is there even a legendary Pokémon of dynamax?" He asked.

His mother perked up at the question.

"Actually, a lot of researchers believe there is." She said, looking impressed at herself for recalling it even as she was speaking. "But it’s a creature that, like, lives in another world and alters space in this one, whatever that even means. Oh! And wishing stars are made of its body or something."

Where had she bloody learnt all that? It hardly seemed like idle chitchat you’d pick up off the street, and she wasn’t the most social of people anyway. Was this something he was supposed to have learnt and retained from school?

"Didn’t realise you’d taken up Pokémon Professor-ing." He said.

"Your dad told me about all that stuff actually… I haven’t thought about it for years." She admitted.

No one at the table reacted, and she didn’t falter over her words like she may have done a few weeks before. He reckoned they must have misunderstood her as having been talking about _their_ dad, though he was almost certain she hadn’t been; that had been directed at him.

He liked to imagine he’d have talked about cooler things with someone he liked at 16, except he didn’t really chat to people all that much back then, so he’d lost by default.

Just what sort of person had his father been to talk about these things anyway?

Still, he liked that they were trying to be casual about this stuff now; that their pasts didn’t have to be a shameful secret they weren’t allowed to acknowledge. Even if dangerous things likes names seemed to be off the table still.

"I would’ve appreciated knowing that wishing star bit _before_ I sent Olivia what I’m now thinking is the equivalent of a toenail!" He said.

"Sorry, but I forgot! I think the imminent apocalypse must have jogged my memory." She joked.

"Alright, I get the picture, but can we wait until we’re not at the dinner table to discuss the world ending? Ruins my appetite to be honest." He laughed, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

After dinner began the semi-regular ritual of the Pokémon playdate; they didn’t do it every time Kabu came over but when the nights were pleasant enough they’d brave the outdoors to let Vulpix try and ‘learn’ how to be a Ninetales. 

Gordie swore that if his mom kept doing this he’d buy a bloody ice stone himself, still baffled at what she could possibly be waiting for, what esoteric sign she expected to appear that would tell her Vulpix was ready to evolve.

Still, watching the pair play around the garden was sweet, even if he himself would like to see Vulpix given the chance of a fair race against the much bigger Ninetales. Frosty was drifting around them overhead, keeping a fair breadth from the fire-type. Frosmoth and he had been on better terms since the battle with Coalossal, the Pokémon seemingly having finally caught on that they were back to fighting regularly again, and that they weren’t going to constantly lose this time.

Kabu kept staring at him, making sure to avert his eyes whenever Gordie was looking his direction. He really didn’t need this right now; his self-consciousness already sky high from everything that had been happening this week.

"Is something up?" He asked, too agitated to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

Kabu didn’t seem embarrassed that he’d been caught out, just looking... stern, somehow; though Gordie didn’t think it was directed at him.

"I’ll admit something has been on my mind. If you feel comfortable doing so, would you be able to bring out the Coalossal from your battle? I didn’t actually get the chance to check on any of the others after Macro Cosmos got involved, so I’m interested in whether there are any… obvious lasting effects." Kabu explained.

"Sure I can let him out, he’s completely harmless. Honestly, he just seems like a normal Pokémon to me so far." He replied. "One sec, just let me go grab his Pokeball."

Admittedly, he was a bit nervous about reintroducing Coalossal to Frosty after their last meeting, though it was hardly like most Pokémon struggled to befriend ones they had fought before their trainer had captured them (it was sort of the whole point really). But Frosmoth could be… capricious at the best of times, which wouldn’t be helped by the fact Coalossal was a rock-type _and_ a fire-type, but was docile enough that he’d probably let Frosty bully him. A dangerous combination really.

Still, he grabbed the ball (continuing to marvel at the strange warmth that radiated through his hand each time he did) and ran back downstairs. He was eager to hear Kabu’s take on the whole thing, slightly unsettled himself by the possibilities of what Macro Cosmos were doing with the Pokémon they had kept.

"Here he is. Coalossal come say hello to Kabu." He said, releasing the Pokémon into the garden space.

It was easy to forget how big Coalossal actually was, towering above the three of them. Rock types tended to be bigger than ice-types, but until Coalossal he hadn’t actually caught any truly massive ones. It made having him around the house harder, and Gordie felt guilty that he wasn’t able to roam freely like other others.

Not that he seemed to mind, stomping around with joy in the snow. The wintery climate of Circhester seemed like a novelty to him, making him wonder exactly where he was from, and if it wasn’t here then how did he get here in the first place?

Gordie was willing to bet it had something to do with whatever was going on right now on a larger scale. 

"He looks like any other Coalossal I’ve ever seen." Kabu judged.

There was no way that the Pokémon involved had anything to do with this, Kabu was likely right that this was human action. It was infuriating that someone had done that to him, Gordie thought, watching him innocently playing in snow.

Sure, it had brought them together, but what had happened to the other Pokémon involved?

"How about the Pokeball?" He asked, chucking it to Kabu, knowing that it would be useful to get his expert perspective on whether it was normal.

Kabu rubbed a finger against the surface.

"It’s warm, but that can happen with fire-types. Generally it means they’re excited." He explained.

Gordie could tell he and his mother were thinking the same thing, ‘crap that’s unexpectedly sweet’. From his mother’s least favourite Pokémon type no less; though he suspected Kabu’s Ninetales had been winning her over, he’d have to try with some of his others at some point.

Coalossal for his part seemed unworried by the humans fiddling with his Pokeball, still plodding mirthfully and gracelessly in the garden, watching as the snow turned to puddles under his feet.

Frosty was watching him, looking utterly fascinated.

Definitely not the reaction Gordie had expected.

Many found Frosmoths hard to read, their eyes large and deep and completely alien, but Frosty had always broadcasted her emotions to him loudly and unashamedly, and right now she seemed… almost affectionate towards Coalossal, something Gordie hadn’t seen from her in a very long time.

"You like him, huh?" He asked softly. 

Frosty drifted closer to Coalossal as he leant forward grasping handfuls of snow and letting them form puddles, the heat made plumes of steam that hit him in the face, and he kept looking surprised at the intrusion as if he weren’t responsible for it.

The flutter of Frosmoth’s wings drew his attention and she quickly retreated as he straightened to his full height. Gordie couldn’t help laughing.

"Think you’ve managed to snag yourself an admirer." He said, patting Coalossal on his shoulder.

When Kabu left that night, he gave him a quick one-armed hug and Gordie couldn’t believe how quickly the man had forgiven him about their misunderstanding the first time they’d done this a few weeks ago. 

It had been a strange week, but it felt like things were oddly going his way from it.

Which obviously meant that Friday found him in a foul mood.

Someone had taken it upon themselves to create a meme comprised of a comparison shot of one of his mother’s magazine covers next to a… less than flattering photo of him taken during the Coalossal battle, with commentary about Circhester having a downgrade that he imagined was meant to pass for funny.

The implication that it wasn’t _quite_ about their Pokémon training was loud and clear, as if being made into a meme wasn’t already a low point.

Usually he could deal with callous jokes at his expense (he had always been an easy enough target, hadn’t he?). But he caught sight of this one for the first time on the phone of one of his gym trainers, giggling over the screen with his friend. Why you would risk clicking on that sort of crap in the exact room you knew you’d find the butt of the joke?

Probably because they thought he was a joke, he reflected. Not that he could really do anything about it; he hadn’t made any changes to his mother’s old team yet, and he imagined this would hardly be the best start.

_Why did you take them off the squad?_

_Oh, they prefer their old leader._

_So?_

_And they laughed at a joke about me._

Yep, he’s sure that would go over great; a glowing testament to his professionalism.

He didn’t need to take them off the team, it was fine. You didn’t have to look up to someone to be taught by them, or like someone to coach them; some professional distance might not be a bad thing in fact.

He could do this.

They didn’t even seem to realise he’d seen; as long as he could get through this session without any of his annoyance seeping out he’d be able to get over it, and save them all the awkwardness by pretending it had never happened.

He thought he’d succeeded, but Liana apparently disagreed, approaching him instead of leaving with the rest of the class at the end of the lesson.

"Are you alright?" She asked. 

"What? Yeah, no I’m fine. Why?" He answered, unconvincingly even to his own ears.

"You seem a bit… I dunno, off. Are you sure nothing is up?"

For a brief moment he considered telling her the truth, to vent if nothing more, but the image of her badly suppressing a smirk, or even outright laughing suddenly entered his head uninvited. She’s another one of Melony’s trainers, of course she’ll find it funny. He probably should too, or at least he shouldn’t be as upset by it as he is surely?

It feels like he’s taking it too seriously, or maybe taking _himself_ too seriously, but after a lifetime of nothing but defeat to his mother, it’s beyond frustrating that even when they’re not fighting, people put them in competition. (And he still loses.)

"I’m alright, busy week is all. Sorry if I was short with you guys." He said instead, not willing to dump all of this on Liana.

"Don’t worry, it actually kind of felt like old times." She laughed.

Old times? He really didn’t need more comparisons to his mom right now.

In spite of himself he went looking for the post once she left (the trainers hadn’t been stupid enough to share it to their profiles when he checked), intent on torturing himself or something with the comments. Of course there were plenty of them just mindlessly laughing along, not adding any input but certainly not thinking about the person on the other side, who was ruining his lunch break by reading what they’d put.

Others were being downright _cruel,_ and he honestly wondered what he’d ever done to them, how they could find him as large an affront to their lives as they apparently did. 

These were exactly the types of things he was afraid people would say about him too, and he hadn’t even had until to league challenge to steel himself for it. He honestly had no idea how he’d cope if more voices started joining in as he slid further into the public eye, barely able to handle the tiny group doing it now. 

A few of the comments were defending him, though half-heartedly. It was more of a ‘Come on guys, can’t you see he’s trying?’

And wow, wasn’t that just a summary of his life?

Some masochistic streak in him kept him reading through the break, even when he wanted nothing more than to look away.

In the afternoon, even though he felt much, much worse about it all, he tried to be more mindful about how his mood would affect his communication with the class, and he supposed he succeeded because no one else felt the need to host an intervention. By the time he got home though, he wanted little more than to just seclude himself in his room, licking his wounds in private.

Except he’d forgotten they had company.

If Kabu was a relatively easy guest to have over, Opal’s friend was the complete opposite. He’d found the triplets misbehaving from the second he’d come home, and he’d actually had to take them to the park to try and distract them for a bit.

Not that it worked anyway. Though he had to admit, he did feel a bit better for doing so, impossible to feel sorry for himself when he was around them. Bizarre attacks on your person from strangers didn’t feel all that big in the face of the unconditional love and gratitude a kid will give you when you keep pushing them higher on a swing.

Now they were onto Plan B; keep them in separate rooms (preferably separate floors of the house).

Opal had sequestered her and her friend away in her room, trying to be as far from their grasp as she could. For his and his mother’s parts, they were trying their best to keep them occupied.

Namely, by baking, which had been his mom’s plan from the outset. The whole experience was more saccharine that the little cupcakes (swirly icing and all) they were actually making in the first place.

Gordie couldn’t ever recall doing this as a child, they wouldn’t have had the money or the kitchen space for it when he was really young, and neither of them had the time by the point they could practically achieve it. He tried to imagine what it would have felt like to have done this sort of thing back then, wondering if it was possible to get nostalgic for a time that had never existed.

Though, he noted darkly, from some of the comments on that post this morning, more baked goods in his life was apparently the furthest thing from what he needed. 

Still, if he wasn’t going to do anything about it, there was no point in throwing a strop and making himself feel guilty, he tried to reason. None yet though, he remembered that he had some scheduled time spent upside-down with Platty, who had already refused a cupcake in anticipation.

Platty who had also brought his Torchic along for the session unannounced, and was currently balancing him on his head.

"Platty don’t do that! What if you hurt him?"

"He likes it! Look." He argued, fussing the feathers around Torchic’s chin while keeping him in position.

Well… the Pokémon wasn’t fighting, and he didn’t look distressed, but he was certain it was beyond his remit of Pokémon training to teach one gymnastics. It was also apparently beyond his abilities in teaching people too, Platty unable to quite grasp it.

It was completely understandable really, it had taken Gordie a long time to perfect a flip the first time he’d learnt, as well as more than a few false starts to figure it out again now (thankfully Platty had taken enough spills himself by now that he didn’t laugh at him for it). But Platty was a smart kid, when he tried things he grasped them almost straight away and Gordie could see how frustrating he found it that the same thing wasn’t happening this time.

He found it frustrating too, the muscle memory was all there for him but accounting for changes in inertia and momentum was annoying, aware it should be easy instead.

But no one was expecting a kid Platty’s age to be able to pull it off, he’d probably become a world champion if he could at this point.

"It’s okay, you just need more practice." Gordie reasoned. 

"That’s what I’m doing!" Platty replied, petulantly.

"If you practice too much at once you’ll hurt yourself though, and then you won’t be able to do it for ages."

He just pouted, obviously considering if it was worth attempting it again anyway. Gordie reckoned he could take his mind off it fairly easily though.

"Bet you I can hold a handstand longer than you can." He challenged.

The bait worked like a charm, and he found himself holding one beside his brother, amused by the idea that he looked upright and the rest of the world inverted from here. Torchic was off to the side, looking extremely confused at exactly what they were doing. 

Gordie watched carefully for the point when Platty’s arms began to tremble, swinging onto his back as lightly as he could without it being painfully obvious to his brother that he was faking the collapse. Thankfully Platty seemed too excited by the victory to question it, jumping heavily onto him and managing to knock the wind out of him like a little child-shaped cannonball.

"I win!" He cheered.

"So you do." Gordie replied, attempting to breathe through the assault on his solar plexus. "You’re getting really good… but you know what that means right?"

"What?" Platty asked, perfectly earnest.

"It means I have to take you out of the picture." He replied, wrapping his arms around him and bringing him into a crushing hug.

Platty was wriggling and laughing to the point of near shrieks, but Gordie held tight for as long as he was certain he wasn’t hurting him. By the time he finally released him they were both laughing through breathless panting.

His brother was able to recover his energy quickly enough at the reminder of cupcakes however, and how Gordie envied the young. He made his way in at a far more reasonable pace.

His mother had put them out of the little ones’ reach in the fridge, and Platty had already called her in to assist him, trying to hurry her exasperatedly.

"You pair look like you’ve been working hard." She said, reaching in for the tray. 

Platty smiled conspiratorially at him, considering the fight they’d just been having instead of doing much work at all. He took the offered snack and ran straight to his siblings; his mom just laughed, rolling her eyes in amusement.

"You fancy one Gord?"

Good question. His stomach was roiling at the thought, comments from earlier still on his mind, but he’d worked hard, didn’t he deserve something nice? Besides, the only reason people had said those things was because they’d seen him in an interesting place, it was hardly like they were hiding in the bushes waiting to make a joke every time he ate something less than great for him. 

"Maybe one. We made way too many, it will definitely make them sick." He laughed.

"Do you wanna take some up to the girls? I’ll put the rest in the fridge." His mother asked quietly, not giving the triplets the chance to hear and offer, when clearly they would just try to annoy Opal.

Well, Platty (finally) seemed too tired to, but the others were still in prime form, he noted, peeking around.

He made his way up at his sneakiest, and quietly knocked. Opal was scowling at the opening of the door, but softened, obviously having expected the triplets instead.

"Don’t worry, we’re still protecting you from the terrors." He joked. "But, they did make these, and I was just bringing up a few in case you wanted any?"

"Thanks." The girls said almost in unison.

Man, preteen girls were kind of creepy actually.

"Song, this is my half-brother, Gordie." Opal said, in lieu of a proper introduction when they’d met earlier.

He just smiled and waved slightly, feeling very out of place.

The last thing he wanted was to intrude, but he also was wary about seeming rude to the pair. Unfortunately, Song took the choice of whether to leave from him.

"You know, my sister says you’re cute." She said, unprompted.

Cute could mean a lot of things. Generally when people said things like that to him (which wasn’t often) they meant ‘cute like a little brother’ or really anything as far from ‘cute like a boyfriend’ as they could manage, making it abundantly clear that they wouldn’t be interested in someone like Gordie in a million years.

This… didn’t seem like that. 

It also probably wasn’t true, he reasoned, just a kid trying to embarrass their older sibling (and Gordie wasn’t sure if he was grateful or wistful that he hadn’t grown up close enough to Opal for her to do that to him), but he decided to humour her; trying not to upset Opal by offending or ignoring her friend.

"Yeah? Tell her thanks from me." He said, laughing lightly at the idea.

"She’s in your team. You know Melody?" The girl asked smugly.

Damn it, he’d intentionally not asked, certain Song wouldn’t have brought it up unless he actually knew the girl. It hadn’t taken a huge leap of logic to figure out she’d be on his team, and there were barely any women there, his attempts to preserve her privacy ruined.

"Oh? You two look really alike, I didn’t realise she had a sister though." He replied, desperately skirting the issue.

Calling a pair of kids ‘Melody and Song’ was a dumb choice in his opinion, though he was distinctly aware that being practically Gourd, son of Melon, he didn’t have much room to judge.

More to the point, however awkward this conversation may be, he was sure that Song was just playing her sister up; there was no way Melody had actually said that. Melody was nice enough, but had never given him any impression she was attracted to him, and she was a pretty girl who (as far as he was aware) wasn’t impaired in vision or reasoning, so it just wasn’t happening.

Honestly he was grateful, he wouldn’t be able to cope if anyone on the team _did_ feel that way towards him; he’d never had to turn someone down before (and doubted he’d ever need to) but he flat out refused to ever get involved with someone who worked under him, having seen enough scandals in the league’s past about it to understand how predatory it easily became.

Plus, it was kind of weird even in theory dating someone whose name sounded that much like your mom’s.

With awkward goodbyes and wishing he’d left sooner, he slinked off, questioning his life choices that had led him here.

He couldn’t claim he hadn’t been thinking about it all night even though he knew she must be lying, endless what ifs and vague signs playing through his head. Apparently Opal had been thinking on it too, knocking on his door before bed.

"What’s up?" He asked. 

She seemed reluctant to speak, and he ushered her in so they wouldn’t be overheard.

"Look, please don’t be mean to Melody on Monday about what Song said." She finally said.

"I won’t! She was obviously joking; I’m not stupid. I’m sorry if I made things awkward coming in though."

Opal just stared at him like he was indeed an idiot, which coming from a preteen stung a tiny bit.

"You think she was being serious?" He asked.

She just watched him guiltily, clearly she was irritated that her friend was selling her sister out like that, but you can’t exactly not tell your own family something when this much is already out in the open.

"I promise I won’t say anything." He tried to assure her.

"Fine! But please, just don’t do anything at all, alright?"

He nodded.

"Song has been saying for weeks that Melody has a crush on you, it’s been really fucking annoying." She muttered, freezing as she realised exactly was she’d said.

"Excuse me Opal, was that a _swear word_ just now?" He said in mock horror.

Her horror on the other hand seemed fairly sincere. Mom wasn’t super strict about this sort of stuff, but she probably wouldn’t be overly thrilled about the sort of language Opal was apparently picking up at high school, and he knew Opal was working as hard to be a good daughter in light of everything as he was a decent son. 

"Don’t worry, our secret." He promised, placing a finger to his lips. "Besides, I get it, _trust me_. I spent all of secondary having people say… literally the worst things about mum. I’m still scarred to this day."

"How am I supposed to deal with this for five years?" She asked.

"Hopefully you won’t have to, she’s retired." He said, the only pathetic consolation he could offer.

"Yeah, but you’re not." She rebutted.

He just snorted, the absurdity in the comparison not even worth explaining.

"I don’t really think you’ll find the same problem." He said instead. "It’s different for guys."

A lie, but better than telling her that one crush aside, people found him thoroughly unappealing and he had the posts to prove it. Even within his gym team it was already two against one.

Which reminded him, what was he supposed to do on Monday? Removing someone from the squad because they allegedly had a crush on him, and he didn’t have the emotional maturity to deal with it seemed no better a reason to take them out than the opposite had.

Opal seemed unconvinced by explanation but left him in (not quite) peace with his thought.

For the first time he wondered if all the other regions didn’t have the right idea about Pokémon gyms after all, couldn’t he just enjoy destroying all the trainers who tried to challenge his gym without being watched and scrutinised?

He knew this was only the beginning too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! A bit of a patchwork chapter this time. 
> 
> Unfortunately updates are probably going to be a bit slower, I've gone straight from Exams into a very full-on placement.


	11. Nothing to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things settle down, only of course they don't.

Gordie made his way out of bed, bleary eyed. A good night’s sleep had been alluding him for days and it was really starting to take its toll, feeling almost as if someone had swapped his bones with lead.

As he made his way downstairs the kitchen light was already on, like it wasn’t an unreasonable time for anyone in the house to be awake. He found his mother stood at the kitchen counter as he entered, looking as blank as he felt befitting the lack of sleep; a tub clutched in her hands.

The coffee pot. 

His heart dropped to his stomach, strong suspicions of what was wrong. Honestly he’d been wondering for a while now how long she would be able to get away with those lonely, phantom mugs she made from time to time before she eventually ran out.

"Mom?"

Her head whipped around, apparently not having caught the sounds of him on the stairs.

"What you up to?" He softly asked.

"We’re almost out." Was all she said, not even moving the tub towards him.

"Want me to pop out and get some more?"

‘It’d be silly to buy more when no one is gonna drink it.’ She said, somewhere between an admission and a question.

Her voice sounded empty, but an undercurrent of almost silent misery ran through her words.

"Why don’t we split the last of it then?" He offered.

"You hate coffee."

"I have become worldly in my travels; I don’t mind it anymore." He lied. "So if you really want to get more, I’ll drink it."

She looked thoroughly unconvinced at his protests, but agreed to split the cup; he imagined for no reason more than to watch him suffer through it.

And suffer he did.

It tasted bitter and watery, hardly more drinkable for adding practically half a cup of sugar to it, and he was sure he was grimacing as he gulped it down.

"I can see you’ve become a real connoisseur." She said dryly. "Honestly, I don’t know how he could manage this stuff, he used to drink it black every morning."

After the diluted one he’d just had, he winced at the thought, but he was glad she was opening up about it again. He’d not pushed her to explain when she’d started making and leaving the cups, hoping she’d be willing to talk about it in her own time.

Clearly she was more talkative now than she’d been when he’d first come down, probably using the gap until now to gather her thoughts.

"Yeah, I admit I may have been exaggerating. I don’t think I _could_ drink that black." He said.

"Honestly I think it was just for the caffeine." She laughed. "There were some change-ups at work a few months before… you know. And he had to get up earlier than me and, well, it wasn’t pretty."

"Is that where the others get their nocturnal tendencies from?" Gordie asked, and she hummed in agreement.

Wasn’t it worrying that they’d spent so little time together that he couldn’t remember the times they were both awake in the morning?

"He’d always bring me in a tea he’d made for me, even though he was practically a zombie that early." His mom explained.

"So why coffee not tea then?"

"It’s silly… but when I smell coffee I just think of those mornings." She said, wistfully smiling at whatever stolen time she was recounting, now the sole keeper of its secrets.

Gordie found himself smiling too; sure, his stepdad had never been particularly close to him, but he’d never treated his mother like anything less than royalty, something he could appreciate the man for, regardless of their relationship.

A strangled sob came out of her without warning, breaking the silence. Instinctively he reached out, trying to keep a reassuring hold on her arm.

"Hey, what’s wrong?"

She made a strange sound, residing somewhere between laughter and tears in a place he wasn’t sure his mother was aware of herself.

"He kept saying early mornings were gonna be the death of him." She explained, struggling the words out. "What if I just missed something super obvious and this is all my fault?"

"We both know that’s not how it works, the doctors said no one could have seen it coming."

Granted, he hadn’t actually _been_ there when it happened, having had it relayed from his mother, and he was certain that for her hearing it had been little help. It was only natural to want to make things better, even if intellectually you understood it was beyond your power; or anyone’s power really.

She didn’t have anything to say in response, unable to refute anything he’d said but not in the sort of emotional state where his words had any chance of reaching her.

She’d read through the coroner’s report countless times, he knew, saying she wanted to understand if their kids were at any risk from the same sort of thing. Gordie was sure that after a certain point she’d just been doing it to torture herself, aware that he was an expert at similar sort of self-punishment.

"I just feel like I’m losing all the pieces of him I had left." She admitted. 

"Yeah?"

"He was never super sentimental, you know? There’s nothing that I can be like, oh, that was _his_ mug; or _his_ pen; or _his_ watch or anything like that." She sighed. "I know it’s stupid and it probably wouldn’t make me feel better, but I wish I just had… something like that."

"Well I can think of four things that he was sentimental about that aren’t going away anytime soon." He joked.

She just smiled sadly.

"I don’t want to smother them every time I feel lonely."

"I doubt they see it that way. And honestly, if you want to get more coffee then you should, it’s not hurting anybody."

"I think it’s hurting me though." She admitted. "Every time I pour one away I just remember that he’s never gonna finish one again, or ever gonna wake me up with a drink. Or fall asleep next to me."

Gordie wasn’t sure what he could do in response, and chose to just pull her into a hug rather than try some platitude he knew wouldn’t help. Silently, he wiped a stray tear from her cheek, both choosing not to acknowledge it.

Eventually the moment was broken by the noise of the triplets awaking each other upstairs; proving that there was something truly alive in this house after all.

His mother composed herself before the others made their way down, and they both tried to push aside the mood of the morning to help them get ready for school.

At least that managed to get a sincere smile from her, the sight of Gordie acting fully domesticated, preparing their lunchboxes (though Opal insisted she could do her own) and fussing over the parts of getting ready they’d inevitably messed up.

Platty was munching toast at irritating volumes, while Gordie was stood behind him, brandishing a hairbrush and trying to tame his hair’s natural tendency to do… well, whatever it bloody wanted. He found himself occasionally pausing to brush the crumbs off his brothers uniform. Thankfully he’d finally stopped talking with his mouth full, small silver lining that it was.

Gordie wondered how dangerous it was that he was still feeling warm and fuzzy towards the tiny bugger even when he was being an annoying little shit. In fact right now he probably would have appreciated the talking anyway, a solemn silence having fallen between him and his mother from their earlier discussion.

"I’m probably gonna head out to the wild area tomorrow, check out if anything happens with Coalossal while we’re there." He said, desperately searching for something neutral to talk about with the triplets around.

To her credit, his mother didn’t call him out on what probably seemed like an obvious repeat of his excuse from the other week. She did however, cast a highly doubtful look in his direction, stopping only short of outright scoffing at him.

"Honestly this time! That place only runs Wednesday evenings, I swear."

She was laughing at his protests of innocence, but he knew she didn’t exactly approve of the little double act he’d developed. The last few weeks he’d attended had brought him no closer to coming clean to the rock trainers, and he wasn’t exactly gonna reveal to the others that he had no real passion for the thing he was meant to train them to do and that he’d joined another gym to grant him that.

It was worrying even to him, he knew he was leaning further into the sessions the more… stressful things got at Circhester; he hadn’t progressed to actually battling with them yet, but he certainly hadn’t shied away from giving pointers from the matches he’d watched. Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten fed up with it yet and demanded he put his money where his mouth was, though Gordie was sure that point couldn’t be too far off.

"Have a good day!" His mother called to him as he left.

"I’ll try! You have one too."

He was, in fact, not having a good day.

The sudden spike in sign-ups last week had made everything more complicated at the gym; sure some of them were definitely talented, but they were mostly not meeting the motivation of the current squad. It was making the process feel like a _chore,_ and Gordie found on the mornings he knew he had classes like these he was dreading coming into work.

"It’s weird, I’m supposed to be the one assessing them. But somehow it feels like it’s the other way around?" He admitted to Liana in a quiet moment between classes. 

"Yeah?"

"I don’t know. they’re probably just trying to figure out if I’m a softer touch than mo-… Melony."

She shot him a look and leaned in conspiratorially.

"Can I let you in on a secret? We _all_ know Melony is your mum." She said dryly. "I mean the resemblance is uncanny."

"I’m sure the public fighting doesn’t help either." Gordie replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Why did they even keep up the ridiculous practice? She’d always claimed she wasn’t hiding that she had kids, and that he was one of them, from anyone; but it had certainly always felt that way. Not that it had been much success. All of Circhester knew, and most people who visited their gym (his gym) would probably be able to figure it out with minimal effort.

"It’s honestly not meant to be a secret. It’s just, well, don’t you think it’s a little, I don’t know… unprofessional for me to call her mum at work?"

"Honestly? I don’t see why it would be. But don’t worry, I promise I won’t go tattle to the press anyway." She joked. "While we’re on the topics of secrets that literally everyone can see…"

He rolled his eyes; it wasn’t even intended to be some dark secret in the first place!

"Think you missed the mark with those trainers." She stage whispered. "They were checking you out."

Gordie just scoffed, hoping that she couldn’t see the burning he could feel at the tips of his ears.

She was smirking and he couldn’t tell if she was playing a joke at his expense, or genuinely thought that they were, and she’d stumbled across their secret. 

"There's no way that's true."

"Ugh. That’s such a _guy_ thing to say." She said, watching him in exasperated disgust. 

"Surely the guy thing would be to think they all want me, with literally no basis?"

"Guys can either ignore when someone does like them or just imagine everyone does; there’s no in between Gordie." 

"Of course." He said dubiously.

"Seriously! You’re gonna break their hearts." She laughed. "It’s good advertising for Circhester though, keep this up until the league challenge and you could end up, like, the most eligible bachelor in Galar."

Liana was laughing at her own scenario, and he could only spare it a derisive snort. She’d never been cruel to him before, so Gordie doubted she was making an elaborate joke to hurt him with all this.

But if she was being serious, then she was seriously delusional.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, Liana’s words playing in the back of his head as he was running the afternoon classes. Even though it was stupid, and there was no way she was right about it, he found himself watching for signs, trying to compare it to his recollections of people doing the same to his mother when he was a kid.

Liana had to be wrong.

But somehow… he could see why she would see it that way.

It was all too much to think about right now, and he couldn’t understand why positive attention made him feel every bit as terrible about himself as someone deriding him, choosing the power through the rest of the day instead of risking any further introspection on the topic.

On his way home he remembered to grab a box of fancy tea, one of those herbal sorts, recalling the coffee conundrum from this morning, while pointedly _not_ allowing himself to think about any of the days events. 

"Are you really heading to the wild area tomorrow?" Opal asked, catching him after dinner.

It was annoying, in a way, that she had gotten to the age where she was sharp enough to pick up the things that _weren’t_ being said to her, at some point having caught on what Gordie had actually been doing when he used the wild area as an excuse from the bits she overheard between him and mom. At least he could mostly trust her to keep it in confidence, something he was almost certain he couldn’t do with the triplets. 

"I am. Why, you got a hankering to tag along?"

"Would it be alright?" She asked.

Wait, she actually wanted to come? He’d mostly been joking, knowing his sister didn’t have that same desire to battle alongside Pokémon that he’d inherited from his mother.

Not that she was unwelcome of course, it was just unexpected.

"Course it is. You want to train?"

"Yeah! I’ve been thinking lately, I really want to help Phoebe and Gordie get strong, that’s the whole point isn’t it? It’s not fair if I hold them back because I’m too scared to."

It was wonderful that she had this sudden desire to do so, but unfortunately almost immediately he’d have to burst her bubble.

"You never have to be scared to train; I promise I’m way less terrifying a teacher than mum… but you can’t bring Dratini with you. He’s non-Galarian, remember? You’ll have to just bring Phoebe."

Her face fell, body drooping as if the sudden rush of motivation she’d mustered had left with the air in her lungs. Gordie knew how awful it felt to finally brave doing something, only to realise you couldn’t anyway.

"It’s alright! We can take him somewhere in Circhester to train another time, or you know, we can just sneak him along, no one will notice. The wild area is huge and he’s pretty small."

"He’s 6ft long! Mum and I checked the other week."

Shit, that was bigger than he’d expected honestly. Why even call them teeny to start with?

"Most of his body is on the floor, there’s no way we’ll get caught." He said, with more confidence than he felt.

"And if we do?"

"I’ll beat the witnesses up with Coalossal and we can go on the run together." He joked.

"It’s not funny Gordie, we could get in trouble."

He could definitely get in trouble. For most people their first time getting caught doing something like that was more of a slap on the wrist, but for Circhester’s _gym leader_ , well, that was likely to be an entirely different story.

"No one ever really gets in trouble for it." He tried to reassure her.

"Then why have the rules in the first place?"

"No one is really that sure actually."

That wasn’t a total lie, people got the whole population control aspect of it, but a lot of Galar were willing to introduce a little more biodiversity to the region; it hadn’t caused major havoc in any of the regions that had adopted previously non-native Pokémon in the past.

His explanations didn’t stop his poor sister spending the entire evening warring with herself over it, giving a lot more gravity to the situation then it probably warranted. She’d even lost sleep over it, though in the end she brought his pokeball, on the assurance that if she felt uncomfortable letting him out then she wouldn’t have to; no one would ever have to know he was with them.

"I still feel bad doing this." Opal proclaimed once they were nearly there, when it was far too late to change their minds. 

"People do it all the time, I promise. Just don’t let the little ones know... or mum."

"But Gordie, it’s wrong! What if we get caught?"

"Trust me, it’s just one of those dumb rules that no-one enforces and are there for no reason, I highly doubt we’re gonna find any other Dratinis out there, or any Dittos looking for an exotic time."

"What?"

"Ignore that last part. That joke was unfit for young ears."

"I know what sex is Gordie." She replied, exasperatedly; having apparently caught on to the jist of it.

Again, getting to that obnoxious age where he wasn’t meant to talk freely around her, but she was far too sharp to miss anything that _did_ slip.

He just gasped theatrically, clutching his chest.

"Kids these days! I didn’t know what the S-word was until I was twenty-five." He said in mock horror.

"You’re twenty."

"Exactly! And if I don’t know, then you’re definitely too young." He joked.

In place of responding she just shoved him, pushing her entire weight into his arm.

It was an admirable effort, but his sister was small even for her age, and he remained unmoved, laughing off the attempts. Thankfully she seemed to see the funny side, joining in before long and hopefully taking her mind off the little misdemeanour they were about to get up to.

He braved giving her a light shove back, running off further down the path and goading her to chase him once he was sure he hadn’t overdone it.

It was strange hanging out with Opal alone, but in a nice way. Sure, the triplets were a lot of fun to look after, but it was still exactly that, care taking. In the years he’d been away Opal had grown up so much, and even if it was unbearably cheesy, he felt excited that he was getting the chance to befriend the young woman she was becoming, and unspeakably fond of the idea that he’d get to accompany the little ones the entire time they were growing up.

This is what family should feel like, he knew, and it was a breath of fresh air for a life that had been so devoid of any of it before. They still had the occasional awkward hiccup, trying to figure out the boundaries and account for the distance between them in the first decade of her life, but those times were becoming fewer and further between. 

It was just… _cosy_ almost, to get the chance to be a big brother, and it made him wistful for a world where they’d done this sooner.

Gordie searched for an empty spot, hoping the absence of trainers would be encouraging for Opal; both in a confidence sense and a comfort with _technically_ breaking the law sense.

Which probably made him a very bad brother, thinking about it.

But it wasn’t as if he was encouraging her to do something dangerous, he reasoned. Although it could definitely be dangerous for him if their mother found out.

Not that he was overly worried, if there was one thing pre-teens and teens could do better than anyone, it was keep secrets from their parents.

The wild area always had an atmosphere unlike anywhere else Gordie had ever visited, even on his travels; the entire place just seemed _alive,_ and whenever he was there he felt perfectly in-sync with his Pokémon. The feeling seemed to be rubbing off on Opal too, who braved bringing out Dratini, feeling somehow safer in the perfect solitude than a person ever could surrounded by others.

Gordie figured if his sister was going to be training with two water types, it would be useful for her if he brought out the closest thing he had to one, which right now was his Binacle. Damn it; if he’d thought ahead he would have borrowed one of his mother’s Laprases, knowing that they would be probably be a better fit. 

Coalossal and Binacle would have to do for now, because as much as he’d love to bring out his entire team it was probably prudent to not create too large a group and bring risking attention to themselves, and then to Dratini by default. Although his pair made a funny group next to Opal’s, which considering Coalossals didn’t live outside of Galar, and Dratinis didn’t tend to live within, was probably a unique combination for anyone to see.

Still, they were making a surprisingly effective team against the wild Pokémon; his team being able to protect his sister’s less experienced one, while still giving her a chance to stretch herself when it came to strategizing her attacks, something he was glad to see she had a pretty good knack for (no doubt from watching their mom).

Gordie was quickly noticing two things however.

First off, he was almost certain Dratini was going to become a tough little bugger. In his experience, whenever Pokémon gained strength slowly, they had the most impressive raw potential to reach; and this one was going at a pace so slow it was practically crawling. He just hoped the long journey to get there wouldn’t be discouraging for Opal, as new to this she was.

In fact, when combined with the extremely unpredictable rate of growth for Feebas, she definitely had a tricky one ahead of her in general. Gordie hoped he hadn’t made a mistake picking out this Pokémon for her, he’d honestly just though a Dragonair and a Milotic would look incredibly cool together. He hadn’t been exactly aiming for complex psychological warfare at the start of his sister’s Pokémon journey.

Which sort of led into the second thing he picked up on. Something wasn’t quite right about the battles themselves, and he was pretty sure he’d figured out what it was.

"You." He declared gravely to her Dratini. "Are not a water type, are you?"

The Pokémon looked utterly unconcerned by his assessment, and Gordie wasn’t sure if it had no idea what was going on, or simply didn’t care.

"Wait, what? Didn’t you check out the details on Dratinis when you caught him?" Opal asked.

"I didn’t think I’d need to. It’s a blue water-dwelling serpent that evolves into a bigger blue water-dwelling serpent! How could it not be a water type?"

"So what is he?"

Gordie really should have done his research, in hindsight. 

"My second guess is pure dragon. But it’s evolution is Dragonair, so if the clue is in the name then maybe it’s flying too? Except you’re definitely on the ground, aren’t you?"

Dratini just watched the humans scrutinising him; big, guileless eyes the picture of innocence.

"I know what you are. You sir, are a deceiver." Gordie said, pointing at the Pokémon with faux sternness.

‘Don’t be mean to Gordie!’

If Opal was really insistent on calling Dratini by his name then things were going to get confusing very quickly. But Gordie couldn’t help but think she was doing this on purpose.

"We’ve gotta rethink that name." He tried.

"I like it!" She argued.

"It’s confusing!"

"Well you change then; it suits him better."

Oh, she was definitely doing this to play him up, wasn't she? Even if it had been intended as a gesture of peace when things had been awkward between them, somewhere down the road it had become an act of war instead.

"I can’t change, I’m the original flavour."

"I don’t think being _Gordie_ flavoured is something you’d want to brag about."

"Oi! Don’t be rude. I mean, you probably have a point… but still!"

"You’re being rude. Let Gordie live in peace!"

Why couldn’t she take her own advice? Tormenting him for her own amusement like this, she should be ashamed.

"Alright. How about I’m Gordie, and he can be Blue Gordie?" He offered in compromise.

"…Fine." She finally surrendered.

"I’m calling him BG for short."

"No!" She whined.

Definitely doing this to annoy him then.

Though somehow he found himself laughing instead.

After yet another battle (and adding to his sister’s frustrations) Binacle was suddenly consumed by light, and they watched on as he began dividing and reforming, finally evolving into Barbaracle.

It wasn’t that it was unexpected, Gordie knew it had been due for a while now, and probably would have happened much sooner had he had the time to train properly with his team since he returned home. But it wasn’t exactly what he’d _intended_ to happen right now. 

Rubbing salt in the wound of Opal’s training woes had been the last thing he’d wanted.

She watched the entire thing in a state of awe, and Gordie suddenly had the peculiar thought cross his mind that this might have been one of the first times she’d seen a Pokémon evolve in person, not really training alongside their mother like he had at her age.

Though she seemed slightly underwhelmed at Barbaracle himself once the process was over, if not a little bit deflated in general... No doubt she was comparing the imagined progress of his team compared to hers, the countless hours he’d spent with Barbaracle until now not quite apparent to her.

"You fancy taking a break?" He asked. "You’ve done really well so far this morning. We may just make a Pokémon champion of you yet, you know?"

She didn’t seem able to take his praise to heart (and what, was that a universal trait of his family after all?), but took the break offered, looking too tired to keep going. .

It was with that slightly moody fatigue that she turned to him, watching him fuss over Barbaracle, checking out exactly what the Pokémon was now working with.

"Gordie?"

"Mhm?"

"Why did you switch types? I mean, why choose _him_?" Opal asked, gesturing to his newly evolved Pokémon.

"Hey! What’s so wrong with Barbaracle?"

Opal watched him flatly.

"I’ve never heard anyone say their favourite Pokémon was _Barbaracle_." She said dryly.

"I don’t have favourites. But I promise you, most trainers are just stupid. I’ve never met a single Pokémon that didn’t have something great to set them apart."

"Okay, but you still haven’t explained what that is."

"Well… Barbaracle is very affectionate, very family-orientated." He explained.

"Really? He doesn’t exactly look the cuddly type." She responded, shooting him a doubting look.

"Are you kidding? He’s got four more opposable arms than he’s ever had in his life, he’s definitely down to hug." Gordie laughed.

"All of him is spiky! None of that wants to hug anything."

Gordie just raised a brow in challenge, knowing he could prove her wrong.

To demonstrate otherwise, he sat down and manoeuvred the Pokémon’s arms over his shoulders, hoping he’d get the jist soon enough. Unsurprisingly for a creature whose survival largely depended precisely on how well it could stick to surfaces and stay there, he immediately began clinging to Gordie, even climbing into his lap.

Opal began laughing at their entire demonstration, little giggling noises that she wasn’t able to stifle.

Barbaracle was much, much heavier than Binacle, Gordie was quickly discovering; but it was endearing enough that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Something about Barbaracle’s grumpy face made his clingy nature even cuter in his opinion. 

"Okay, so they’re sticky, but I don’t think that makes them family-y."

"Well, Binacles are actually two Pokémon, living on the same rock."

"Wait, so the rock isn’t a Pokémon?" Opal interrupted. 

‘No, it’s just a random rock; that’s not the point though."

"Sorry."

"I’ve never even seen one on it’s own, and maybe that’s just safety in numbers, and I’m not a Pokémon professor or anything, but I really don’t think that’s it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I’ve been training this one for a while now, and every time he gets stronger, he saves a bit of his strength. And you’ve seen it just now, when they’ve stored up enough they divide. This guy here is actually made of seven." He said turning Barbaracle’s arms to expose the eyes in each.

"Sounds… busy."

"Yeah, but I think they like it that way. If it was just about being stronger they could’ve evolved in any way; but it’s like he’s a little family within himself. I dunno, I just think it’s sweet. Beats being lonely, right?"

Opal watched him carefully at that, and he hoped that he hadn’t given her any funny impressions with his ramblings on family and loneliness. 

"I don’t think I have that." She said miserably.

"Have what?" He asked, suddenly anxious that he’d managed to somehow make things _worse_.

"I can’t… see Pokémon like that. I’m not sure I can be a proper trainer, you know? It’s never been like that for me."

"Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re being too hard on yourself; you realise I’m just guessing right, and I’ve been Pokémon training since before you were born, right?" He said, trying to gesturing soothingly.

Which she was having none of, apparently.

"And you were probably better than me at it even then!" She argued, raising her voice and making their Pokémon duck their heads to avoid the sound.

He recalled Barbaracle to his ball, not wanting to aggravate the situation.

"No way! I spent like… thirteen years, just copying everything I saw mom do, and I promise you it always felt like I was doing it wrong. If you want to train, then it means you’ve already got that thing that’s gonna help you find your way of doing things at some point." He explained.

"I don’t know If I want to!"

What?

"Then why did you come along?"

"I wanna do what’s best for them. But I can’t help them be strong like you or mum do, I’m not like you!"

"You don’t have to be a trainer like mum, or even like me; just focus on figuring out what works for you. Please don’t make yourself upset over this." He said, pulling her gently into a hug. "The only wrong way to train is if you make anyone in your team miserable, and that includes you."

"But I want to do better! I just… can’t. It’s never worked that way for me."

"If you want to be a better trainer than you were this morning, then let’s train again now we’ve had a break." He challenged softly. "Plus, and know that I wouldn’t lie about this, both the Pokémon you’re working with are ones that can become _really_ strong; if they were easy to train then wouldn’t everyone do it?"

That seemed to break her out of her funk, even if he could tell the truth of what he was saying hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Everyone wanted to feel like they were doing something special, even if it was only kids who would admit it to themselves.

"…Alright. I’m ready to start up again." She finally agreed.

Thankfully she seemed to be perking up in increments as they continued their battles into the afternoon. They managed another fair few hours training in relative peace before they caught sight of another human being again, running towards them

"Alright, nothing to see here, no illegally-lurking 6ft blue serpents." He whispered to Opal, trying to prompt her to return Blue Gordie to his Pokeball.

Not the guy seemed to be paying any attention as she did.

"Everyone is meant to clear out. Some guys were just fighting a giant Appletun!" He breathlessly explained as he reached them.

"Okay, when you say giant, do you mean bigger than average or as big as a building?" Gordie asked.

"Building, definitely."

Entirely the answer he’d been afraid of.

"Look, I gotta go warn more people." He said, running off once more.

"Do you think it’s another one like Coalossal?" Opal asked.

"Probably. I don’t think that guy would be that panicked if they’d been _expecting_ to find a Gigantamax here."

Plus, finding an Appletun of any size here seemed unusual.

Opal looked towards him worriedly.

"Or… Maybe that guy is just an idiot?" Gordie suggested, trying to lift her mood.

"Maybe." His sister agreed, with a weak smile that suggested she didn’t really believe it.

He imagined it was possible all the discussions they’d had on the topic with Kabu over dinner had gotten in her head.

Not that it mattered currently, as approaching the scene of the incident (what? Was he actually supposed to listen to that guy after everything weird that had happened last time) it became clear that the guy was, in some respects, an idiot after all.

Not that he was wrong about the scale of the Pokémon, the damaged scenery suggesting he’d been entirely correct about that part. It was just that the situation was already completely dealt with, and it was unlikely anyone actually needed to evacuate in the first place.

Again, people loved to feel involved in something special (wasn’t that what he was doing right now, in fact?)

He notice the surroundings were crawling with Macro Cosmos workers, searching around the debris the creature had left (presumably when shrinking). Probably looking for a wishing star, Gordie realised. Maybe they were the cause of this after all?

Rather than but his nose where it didn’t belong, Gordie considered taking Opal and leaving, knowing that he really shouldn’t have brought her in the first place. Especially when she had a Pokémon in her presence who was prohibited from being here (not that Macro Cosmos would be able to tell while he was in his ball).

Only problem with that being that Rose’s scary secretary had just caught sight of them.

He should have bloody evacuated after all. 

As it turned out, Macro Cosmos wanted to talk with him some more about these incidents, though thankfully he’d been able to send Opal home (and really, they’d gotten very lucky not to have gotten caught with Blue Gordie), and explain what was going on to his mother before he was expected to make his way back.

This time he was meeting with Chairman Rose himself, and he really hoped he hadn’t managed to piss the man off after his stunt with Coalossal. If they tried to separate them now, Gordie wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do to stop them.

He’d seen the Chairman on the TV a multitude of times, and watched from afar the few times the man visited Circhester, but he still couldn’t say he was overly familiar with him. As a child, he’d always secretly longed for the chance to talk Rose, after realising he’d been a top trainer in his own right, and more importantly, the one to endorse Champion Leon at ten years old; the sole believer that the boy could achieve victory.

It felt almost embarrassing in retrospect how silly it was, but at that age Gordie had harboured the silent fantasy that Rose would endorse him too, seeing as his mom had been repeatedly refusing to do so. That the man would somehow just look at him and see whatever spark had drawn him to Leon, and would offer him a path to his future. 

Obviously he hadn’t. Every time he’d looked at Gordie he’d given a smile, and all the perfunctory kindness you offered a child, before passing over him once more.

He’d long accepted there was no spark in him to see, but back then his dejection that he wasn’t somehow special like the champion had felt like utter rejection, and he’d forever been too intimidated to talk to the Chairman since.

Now it was hard to reconcile those feelings with the man stood in front of him.

A little of the short side, and generally just a bit… squishy (not that Gordie had any room to judge on either count), Rose was hardly the larger than life figure Gordie had always remembered him as. His mother had always called the man handsome, and he supposed he could see it now. He was certainly well-groomed at least, impeccably put together and carrying an air that told you that he _knew_ it, sea-glass eyes watching the room with a sense of complete control.

There was an inscrutable air of solemnness around him in person though. Gordie supposed that could have been down to the dynamax crisis they were currently having, but somehow it felt like a permanent feature. It stifled the air around them and set Gordie on edge, even if the man’s gaze was kind.

"Hello. You wanted to see me?" Gordie asked, falteringly.

"Ah yes, thank you for coming. I know the timing isn’t great, but I think it’s probably about time we updated one another, isn’t it?"

"Updated?"

"You held onto one of the Pokémon affected didn’t you?"

Was this his cue to bring Coalossal out? Were they about to take him away?

"Oh! Yes, I did. But he’s completely normal. Not that I’ve been checking in a place where he could hurt anyone if he _wasn’t_ normal. But no, yeah, I haven’t spotted anything out of the ordinary."

Shit, he was babbling. Gordie doubted he was doing much to convince the chairman that Coalossal was safer with him than elsewhere, though Rose seemed polite enough to ignore it as he continued.

"I’m glad to hear it, and it’s very much in line with the Pokémon we kept under our observation. I wanted you to know that they have now been released, with a harmless tag just in case of any future incidents. My assistant thought you may have been worried about them."

"I was. But not because I thought you guys would do anything wrong, I was just… worried. Like, in general."

Clearly he was doing a great job showcasing his astonishing wit to the man, who was watching him as if he were an idiot.

Though it was hardly without reason, Gordie reflected.

"However, even if we have ascertained that there are no lasting effects on the Pokémon who have fallen victim to… whatever this is, the incidents are continuing to occur and based on that I think it would be prudent for us to keep you updated on the situation."

Him?

"Me?"

Finally cracking through the veneer of his manners, the chairman actually laughed aloud at him. 

"Yes, as the interim leader of Circhester I’d say you have a stake in this; especially if it results in any accommodations being made to the league challenge."

"That’s a while off yet though."

Great, bloody great. Someone else talking about it already.

Was Gordie supposed to be preparing already? The thought made him feel slightly sick. 

"True, but even if a problem could wait until tomorrow I’d much rather solve it today where possible, and wake up in a brighter world the next morning for it." Rose reasoned.

His expression was glassy, as if the man’s thoughts were elsewhere, but something on Gordie’s face must have given away his utter confusion, as Rose suddenly became present once more, focusing back in on their conversation and smiling at him, crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

"Ah, I apologise, I think I’m just getting a bit older; being overly dramatic." He laughed; a quiet, warm but ultimately empty sound. "These things take longer than you’d imagine to arrange, I know that for your first one you must be very excited."

Did he know that? It would be nice of someone to inform Gordie of that, failing to gather anything but dread every time he thought about it.

"Yes, very excited." He lied. "I’m looking forward to putting your trainers to the test."

"While we’re on the topic… We actually have something for you."

What?

Rose slid a small box, as neatly presented as everything else within this office, across the desk, beckoning Gordie to open it.

It was inexplicably nerve-wracking. Gordie had come into the meeting expecting to have to fight for Coalossal, he had no idea how he was meant to react to anything of this, wandering on unfamiliar and uneven terrain.

"Oh _shit_." 

Though that probably _wasn’t_ how he was meant to react.

Rose just laughed again; and at least he was entertaining to the man, even if he was currently acting as far from impressive as he was possibly capable of.

But in his defence, a bloody dynamax band had been the furthest thing from what he’d imagined.

"I’d heard that you’d never used one before. That tends to be the first reaction for most people."

Honestly, that checked out. He just hoped Rose was willing to excuse his lapse of manners.

"Well, try it on!" The chairman prompted.

Gordie pulled it out of the box, cradling it almost reverently, before clasping it onto his wrist.

A perfect fit.

Unbidden, Gordie wondered if this was made from the wishing star that had fallen with Coalossal, before dismissing the idea; this had probably been made ages ago and just lying around for if any trainer with a wrist bigger than a pre-teen’s needed it.

Still, even if the intellectual part of him knew it was unlikely, he couldn’t help but feel he’d been re-united with the final part of Coalossal, the two entities nebulously intertwined somehow, and granting him his wish.

Well, he hadn’t quite gotten there (wherever it was) yet, but he couldn’t help but spend the rest of the meeting on cloud nine regardless, absently listening to Rose’s talks on safety and vigilance in the face of the unknown threat upon them.

Finally the man prompted he could leave, Gordie was desperate to put his dynamax band into action, Circhester by night seeming like the perfect venue to do so. He was tempted to drag his entire family out with him.

Their was a sudden blossom of warmth in his chest at the thought that they could do that, the mental of the triplets climbing on top of a dynamaxed Shuckle entering his thoughts unbidden. 

"It was lovely meeting you Gordie. I’m looking forward to working with you going forwards." Rose said.

"Oh, we’ve actually met before."

Why did he say that?

For the first time in the entire meeting, he had truly caught the man off-guard, collected façade dropping for just a second.

"Really? I apologise, I can be terrible with names and faces sometimes."

"You visited Circhester a few times back when I was a trainer there." Gordie explained, sheepishly.

Arceus, was he really so desperate for validation from him even now? It was he was asking for disappointment.

"Oh yes! I remember now. It must have slipped my mind somehow among all the… goings on lately, terribly sorry. How exciting to get to lead the gym you have such a history with!" Rose said, beaming. 

Rose didn’t remember him. He was an excellent liar though, Gordie would give him that. For once he was glad that the first association people made when they knew his identity was who his mother was, the absence of it making the lie glaringly obvious.

It was very grounding, knocking him straight off the high that receiving the dynamax band had given him.

Truly, it was amazing that Rose only had to meet the champion once to decide he had the potential to be the greatest trainer in Galar, but after being introduced to Gordie multiple times, watching him train even, he’d left no impression on the man at all. 

He supposed when it came to him there really was nothing to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't coming out, I completely re-wrote and re-plotted it three times and I suppose this is where we ended up. 
> 
> I also gave up proof-reading half-way through. 
> 
> More coming at some point.


	12. Battles big and small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Gordie has accepted that he's always fighting, the least he could be given is to win more than he loses. Right?

"And why exactly do we have to do this in a shed?" He asked as they made their way down the garden.

"Little ears could be eavesdropping anywhere, Gordie." Was all his mother said, unlocking the door and ushering him in.

The shed had been in a bad way when he’d left years ago. Now? Now, it was a miserable thing, shabby, faded and looking as though a hard breeze could reduce it to splinters.

His mother on the other hand seemed… fine. Way too upbeat to be ushering him into this death trap anyway; and Gordie couldn’t fathom why she was being so needlessly cryptic if there was nothing actually wrong. Maybe, she was trying to keep face around the others?

He peeked in from the entrance. The interior was no more orderly than the outside, but bizarrely colourful; sticky notes pasted all over the walls and Pokémon supplies fighting for space among endless cardboard boxes.

She couldn’t seriously want to cram them both in there with all that, could she?

"Well come on!" She said, gesturing more insistently.

Giving in to whatever strange whim had taken over her, he squeezed in.

"What exactly aren’t they supposed to know?" He asked once he was certain they wouldn’t be heard.

"Pearl’s tooth fell out."

Of course. Because, surely, that warranted this sort of response.

His face must have given away his exasperation because his mom began gesturing accusingly.

"You think I’m being silly, but-"

"No. It’s perfectly normal to start a covert operation over a wobbly tooth." He replied dryly.

"Hilarious. But I’ll have you know; this is all their father’s fault." She replied, thoroughly unimpressed.

"I still don’t get how any of this could possibly mean we have to hide in a shed!"

"He once managed to somehow convince them that it would be a great idea to try and catch the tooth fairy in the act. They have never let it go." She said scowling, though she couldn’t hide her fondness through it.

Gordie was glad she was starting to think about her husband and feel something other than sad.

But still, the entire issue was ridiculous.

"Why don’t you just tell them the truth?"

"I don’t want to ruin this for them! They’re only little."

"I didn’t believe in the tooth fairy, and I turned out… fine."

Relatively so, anyway.

 _Besides_ , he really doubted any of his problems stemmed from a lack of belief in tooth stealing entities.

"Come on, Gord. Let them have this." She pleaded.

Have this? He must have missed the last time they were denied _anything_.

He swallowed the remark, not wanting to start an argument where one wasn’t needed.

"So what, you want me to sneak into their room? I mean, if you give me the window key I’m willing to take a shot at it." He offered lightly, to her abject horror.

He was joking!

Half joking at the very least.

"Nope! Not happening!" She replied. "We just need to tire them out somehow."

Shame, it would have been worth it if only for the look on her face.

"Alright, we’ll do things _your_ way." He said with mock offense. "You got any ideas?"

She paused, as if considering.

Unfortunately for her, his mother wasn’t half as subtle as she thought she was, and Gordie could tell that she’d been rehearsing whatever she was about to say.

"We could head up to the gym if you wanted?" She suggested, an almost perfect impression of nonchalance.

"This all seems a bit excessive for a loose tooth." He pointed out, not wanting to play along with whatever was going on here. "Besides it’s empty, what would be the point?"

His mother glanced at him before averting her eyes, something like guilt in them.

"Well, it might be a good chance for you to test out that dynamax band. It’s been weeks, don’t you want to?"

Ah, she’d cornered him all alone and now was the time to interrogate. Clearly he’d fallen straight into her trap.

"Is that seriously what this is about?" He asked. "I don’t see how it’s any of your business!"

"I’m worried about you Gordie. You’ve been… not yourself since you came back with it. I mean, at first, I thought you were just in a strop because I told you off about Dratini…"

And didn’t he know about it, though he struggled to be mad at Opal about letting it slip; she’d clearly been shaken about everything that had happened. Still, he’d taken the brunt of that scolding, as if he wasn’t an adult man who could make his own choices. (Whether or not the law agreed or not was a different matter.)

"But now I think there’s something else going on." She continued.

"Then why couldn’t you just ask me?" He asked.

"Would you have told me if there was something up?" She rebutted.

Would he have? Was there even anything wrong with him in the first place?

"Yes!" He answered, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. "You don’t have to shove me into your scheme shed if you want to talk about stuff."

" _Scheme shed_?" She asked affronted, clearly focusing on the wrong part.

"Yes, scheme shed! You have scheme things in here." He said, gesturing to the notes. "Look at this stuff."

"That’s just birthday stuff, what’s wrong with that?"

He looked towards the little set of notes he’d pointed at; he hadn’t even been focused on the actual content.

"Are you seriously already planning their birthdays? You’ve got months!" He said, emphasising that this definitely made it weirder.

"It’s three in one Gordie, it takes time!" She argued.

He just looked at her doubtfully.

"Okay, so _maybe_ I have a little more free time than I’m used to. I mean the last time I had this much time on my hands was probably when I was having them." She said lightly, as if it was a joke.

Except it wasn’t. As of a handful of days ago, she’d been off longer now than she had then, making it probably the longest absence in her career; something he was certain hadn’t escaped her even if she was trying to be flippant about the whole thing.

"Trust me, I know." He replied, aiming to match her tone but sure he was failing.

He’d been fifteen back then, and even Melony wouldn’t have been able to justify leaving him in charge, instead ‘bestowing’ the role to Micah. It was for the best, Gordie knew, he’d already been overwhelmed by the stress of everything else going on back then, there was no way he would have been able to run the gym.

Still, he could tell that none of this new arrangement was lost on Micah, and the seething, stewing questions behind his eyes only seemed to grow the longer Gordie was in charge.

Micah wasn’t an idiot, surely he knew that if Melony was staying away longer now than she had when she’d nearly _died_ with triplets, then she had no intentions of coming back.

Gordie wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Micah thought of that.

"You’re changing the subject!" His mother accused. "If nothing is up then why can’t we go and see you dynamax tonight?"

He wasn’t changing the subject, that was the problem. Every single thing in his bloody life seemed to come back to that gym.

Melony paused pensively.

"If you want one of your rock types to be the first then this would be the perfect chance, you know." She bargained.

It was sweet that she was considering stuff like that, but that wasn’t the problem.

He wasn’t being off! There was no problem.

"Fine we’ll do it, but don’t think I’m dropping the shed thing. You need to get rid of this stuff, it makes you look like a serial killer."

"It does not!"

"Walls covered in papers? Check. Boxes that could be full of body parts? Check. Murder weapon?-" He trailed off.

"What?" She asked at his sudden distraction.

Really you would have thought she’d be happy for it.

"Ice stones." He answered, pointing out the collection nestled on an overcrowded desk.

‘What about them? I train ice Pokémon, they’re the most normal thing in here!"

"Well first, that’s what you use to bludgeon your victims." He began.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Second, why won’t you evolve Vulpix?" He asked, hoping to catch her off guard with the rapid conversation shift.

Apparently he’d succeeded. Either that or she genuinely had no clue what he was on about, watching him in silence.

"You keep saying I’m acting weird but it’s super weird you haven’t evolved her!" He accused.

"I haven’t said you’re acting weird Gordie… I told you I’m worried about you. I don’t get why you’re being so defensive about this." She replied, clearly trying to placate him.

Arceus, he was being weird wasn’t he?

He took a deep breath, determined to not start yelling.

"Maybe I am… But you scheme and sneak me off alone and start interrogating me about stuff, and you never wanna talk about stuff back."

He was being unfair, he knew, his mother had an extra 16 years of baggage on his and she was trying, she really was; but he was too, and it was infuriating that they were still making such little progress.

"Gordie, I wasn’t trying to… trick you into talking… I guess I’ve not put as much thought into evolving Vulpix either. I know it probably seems strange, seeing how I’ve trained my Pokémon in the past." She started.

Really, it was gratifying to hear he wasn’t insane, she _was_ being weird about Vulpix.

"I guess I’m just enjoying getting the chance to get to baby her while it lasts." She said softly.

"Don’t you have enough on your plate?"

"You know, not really. for the first time since I can remember I’ve got the time to coddle, but the others are at school all day… And, well, my first baby came back all grown up from when I last saw him." She explained.

He tried not to bristle at the comment, knowing that their wasn’t some hidden barb about him being a baby, or whatever ‘grown up’ even meant.

"Okay… So why the whole thing with Kabu and Ninetales, then?" He asked, changing tactic.

"What, I’m not allowed adult friends now?" She accused, though he could see from her flushed face he’d put her on the defensive.

"Of course you are! It just feels like it’s all under some false pretence when you talk about socialising Vulpix and Ninetales."

"They get along Gordie. As do Kabu and I, it’s good for all of us. Besides, I thought we’d dropped this months ago!" She said, annoyance starting to creep into her voice.

"We have! We have. I’m glad you have a friend who can support you right now. He’s… he’s a good guy." He tried lamely.

"Thank you! I’m not trying to ‘scheme’. It’s just nice to have a reason to see a friend, you know?"

He wondered how well he did know.

What was he doing? With the initial wave of anger subsiding, he felt silly, like he’d been shouting her down over completely normal things. It wasn’t as if everything she did was some calculated ploy to mess with him.

"Look, mom I don’t feel like I’ve been off, but if you want-" He lied.

"You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to Gordie." She replied softly.

He didn’t? She’d certainly changed her tune.

"If you do want to talk though, I’m here." She finished, pulling him into a hug he returned the best her could considering the limited space.

"Thank you, and you’re right, it will be nice to get the chance to use my dynamax band in peace… well, relative peace."

The relative pun regarding his siblings had been unintentional and he fought not to point it out to her, thankfully the moment seemed to pass unnoticed, lest he ruin the sincerity of the conversation.

"Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?" She asked cautiously.

He barely understood how most the time when they had an argument, it seemed like they ended up fighting for the opposite point by the end of it. Sometimes, it felt like it wasn’t even about whatever issue was at hand that day,that they were just desperate to push a boundary, to dig up whatever they felt the other was keeping from them.

Though in a way, that had always been the dynamic of their relationship, the only way things had worked in Gordie’s life.

"I am, I promise. But, er, can we get out of the shed please? I get the gist of the teeth stealing plan, and I’m getting kind of claustrophobic." He laughed.

"Fine! But I think it’s homey, do you really think I should clear it out a bit?"

"I’m kind of towing the line between cleaning it out and tearing it down to be honest."

"Oi!" She shouted, pretending to whack his shoulder in outrage. "I guess a clean might be in order at some point though, these things just sort of get overrun when you’re not looking. You know?"

Gordie figured that was the way of most things, when you had something more important to focus on, and it seemed that there was always something more important than the thing you didn’t want to do in the first place.

In fact, once they were both out and back in the house, it was more than easy to forget the shed existed in the first place.

Operation tooth fairy had been a resounding success, even if planning it had ended up taking up the minority of the conversation in the scheme shed (the name of which his mother was still arguing against).

She’d been confused when he sent out his Frosmoth to dynamax instead of one of his rock types, but to Gordie it felt right, Frosty had been his first ever Pokémon after all, it made sense. Plus, among the endless iciness of Circhester’s pitch it would have felt sacrilegious to choose one of the others over her, they’d spent years training on this very pitch before he’d even met any of his current team.

Besides, his rock types were going to get their proper time on show one day, he was certain of it, and he wouldn’t have to sneak them around after hours for it either.

The little ones seemed to appreciate it, chasing the frozen debris that seemed to fall as heavy as a snowy day as she flew around the stadium. Even Opal seemed to be getting into the spirit of it, after being cagey around him since she told their mom about Dratini (not that he could blame her, he had been in a… less than fantastic mood, he could admit).

Of course the one who was clearly having the most fun was Frosty herself, 4ft of weird, mothy body obviously not being enough to convey her endless fury under normal circumstances. 

Or something like that.

Gordie wouldn’t like to try and guess how big she’d been, though at one point he’d petted her head (chilly, but thankfully warmer than her wings themselves) and his hand had been completely dwarfed.

But he always felt small on Circhester’s empty pitch, surrounded by swathes of the icy blue stone. It made him feel like ice himself, transparent and fragile. Sometimes that made things easier though, as if the thought that everything could shatter made it feel more worthwhile taking a risk in the first place.

In a weird way, it was the place he felt most alive, vulnerable, but definitely more… _present_ than he could be anywhere else.

Somewhere that always managed to put him in a weird mood. 

It must have been this strange mood that convinced him he should seek his mother’s advice on… everything.

He waited until _after_ the successful tooth heist though, not wanting to throw either of them off before they managed it.

"Can we talk?" He asked, and it must have been abundantly obvious what he meant, because she went off to make some hot drinks and give him the chance to get comfy before he had to explain.

It should have given him time to gather his thoughts. Apparently not though, because all he could open with was:

"Rose had no clue who I was."

"What?" His mother asked, which was fair, he hadn’t exactly given her much to work with.

"When he gave me the band, he pretended to know who I am, but he didn’t."

"Ok?" She replied, clearly not getting what was bothering him about it.

"I’ve met him loads of times!" He argued.

"Yeah but he meets loads of people, what does it matter if he remembered you? It’s a little rude sure, but he’s only human… Are you sure there isn’t something else going on?"

Wasn’t this enough? She wanted him to open up but then made him feel ridiculous by being bothered by it in the first place. He’d already felt like an unbearable brat about it, like he just wanted to be special, like he had when he was a kid, like the champion had been (and that was something he’d never tell her, could never bear telling anyone.)

How pathetic that he couldn’t get over it.

"I guess I’m worried, alright! Pokémon training is supposed to be the one thing in life I’m good at, but what if I’m not good enough? It’s Chairman’s Rose entire job to find trainers to lead the league, and I’m basically a non-entity to him!" He started, finding that the more he spoke the more he actually understood what had been wrong.

"Oh, Gord. Even if he didn’t remember you before, he won’t think of you like that." She tried to reassure.

"I don’t care if he remembers me or not!" He said, unsure of the truth himself. "But he was so… offhand the whole time. What if he’s just planning to replace me? To give Circhester’s spot in the majors to someone else?"

"Woah! I think there’s a bit of a leap there from not recognising you." His mother reasoned. "What if he genuinely did remember you after you explained? You were a kid all the times you met."

"It’s not a leap!" He complained "If the guy whose job it is to find the talent doesn’t see any in me, the how will any of my league trainers? Or the audience? If I can’t perform, they’re all gonna think I got the job because you’re my mom, and they’ll take it back!"

"Sweetheart, you don’t know that he thinks that of you, and even if he does, he’s wrong! And the second he sees you out there on a pitch he’s gonna know it. You’re an extraordinary trainer Gordie, and I know everyone is gonna see that."

He tried to take it to heart, but there were only so many times you could listen to your mom say you were special when no one else seemed to agree without feeling like the biggest loser in the world.

"Besides, you shouldn’t go out there and battle for them or for Circhester. You should being doing it for you."

"And I do… But if I did lose Circhester, or I got us demoted, you’d be devastated."

His mother just watched him sadly. 

"I’d live, it’s a gym. What would _devastate_ me, is if my baby boy made himself sick with stress worrying about a bunch of things that could happen but won’t. You'll be amazing, because you’re already a better trainer than I am."

Gordie wasn’t sure that was true under the best of circumstances, but when it came to ice Pokémon? It couldn’t be further from the truth.

"I know it’s tempting to let the fear that you’re not going to be good enough stop you from doing the things you love, but you already are Gordie. You always have been."

"Thanks. I’ll, er, try to keep it in mind. And I’ll try to drop the crabbiness." He said with a laugh, hoping to change the subject.

His mother graciously allowed them to, even though he was certain he wasn’t being subtle about it in the slightest.

The rest of the night passed more lightly, mostly talking about nothings, and squabbling only a few times over the prospect of cleaning out his mother’s death trap of a shed.

When they eventually set off for sleep, Gordie tried to focus on the inevitable excitement and anger from his little siblings, knowing in the morning that they’d been outsmarted by the tooth fairy once more.

Anything was better than the doubts that wouldn’t quite go away.

Not that he could ever truly banish them, still lurking in the background even by his next visit to the rock gym. 

"And, like, don’t get me wrong, she’s always unbearable. But she’s being _more_ unbearable than usual." Kiera moaned.

"Yeah? What’s she been up to?" Gordie asked.

"She keeps bringing work home with her and stuff, and she keeps acting as if she’s the most important person in the world while she’s doing it, but she’s obviously just doing it for some guy. Newsflash! It’s not gonna make him notice you."

Break times were always the time for venting, Gordie had noticed since he’d started visiting.

Often, this little rock gym wasn’t really like a gym at all, but more like a gathering of friends with a common hobby, who just so happened to practice it so they had a chance to meet up every week and catch up.

Not that that was a bad thing. Besides, he was sure that was plenty of gossip and catch ups at Circhester, it was just something he wouldn’t be included in given his position. (Not that he’d ever been included in it before anyway).

The current target of the conversation (met mostly by vague grumbles of agreement from the others about how annoying it must be) was Kiera’s sister, who turned out to be the league trainer she’d mentioned she was always compared to, when she had Gordie and first met.

It seemed unfair; it really did. As Kiera described it, her sister was their parents obvious favourite, just because she’d actually been able to find a league team close enough to home to join.

"It’s like she thinks she’s the champion or something! I’d love to swipe that smug grin off her face half the time!"

Gordie didn’t have any doubts that Kiera could, she was already properly talented even though her experience was limited by the lack of a proper rock type team she could join.

He really wished there was something he could do for her to help, but with the closest league gym for it in Wyndon, there wasn’t much possible.

"So what’s been up with you and your promotion?" Oliver asked Gordie when the conversation had come to a lull.

Some of their members had quickly taken an interest in talking to him, and he was fairly certain it was just innocent curiosity, rather than suspicion about the strange coded stories from his daily life.

He had no idea why he was actually going along with it, but after a lifetime of keeping everything close to his chest out of a sense of shame about how people would see him, it was… _liberating_ , freeing beyond words, to just be able to talk in a place where no one knew who he was.

Plus, being able to talk about his mother’s neuroticism, and the inevitable arguments that ensured when it butted heads with his own, without the risk of them selling the details to tabloids was a bonus.

They didn’t really understand, or rather couldn’t with the vague way he was explaining it, this strange promotion he’d gotten when he’d come home where it felt like everyone wanted him to just be his predecessor. They found it amusing that Gordie was complaining about all this stuff when on the surface it sounded like everything was sort of going his way in life, wondering why he couldn’t just quit if it was making him miserable.

He didn’t have the heart (or the words, really) to explain how all of this was building on a lifetime of issues he was only just becoming willing to admit to himself, and that he felt like he was nearing the boiling point.

It was funny though, watching their visible shock that he had no stories for them this week.

"Honestly, me and my predecessor actually talked some stuff out this week, about my dick boss and stuff. I’m doing great." He laughed.

"If you’re doing so well, maybe this is the week you should fight. You must be on a lucky streak or something." Keira challenged.

This… had been an ongoing problem though.

They all really wanted him to battle, probably out of nothing more than curiosity based on how long he’d been holding out until now.

It wasn’t even as if he didn’t want to.

It was more that he knew he _shouldn’t._

He sat out the last few weeks, and hadn’t fought the first half of this session (though he’d started bringing his rock team the session before last, just in case), if only because he wasn’t sure how to approach the issue. The last thing he wanted was to patronise the other trainers by going easy on them, but he was distinctly aware that he was a lot more experienced that he had any right to be, based on the details that he’d told them about his life.

"Look, I’m just no fun to battle, trust me. I’m a right show-off and a sore loser too. Worst combination, I know." He admitted.

"Who’s told you that then?" She asked.

He winced.

"The majority of the people I’ve ever fought?"

Oliver just started laughing.

"Really? To be honest Gordie you don’t seem the type." He said. "You go around fighting lots of people then?"

"It’s not a bad way to make money when you’re travelling." Gordie explained. "Except in Alola; the resorts pay you ridiculous amounts of money to throw Pyukumuku into the sea. Honestly, you should try it if you ever go."

"I’ll, er, keep It in mind. But if you battled your way across pretty much every region I don’t get how you can be so shy now!"

Crap.

He’d been caught out there, hadn’t he?

"Hey, it wasn’t exactly like I was going around toppling all their Pokémon leagues or anything, it was pretty casual stuff."

"It’s casual here! Come on, just do it this once and we’ll drop it forever." Keira promised.

She hadn’t been entirely wrong about his lucky streak, he noted. Coming clean with his mother had been surprisingly painless, so what could be the harm in being a bit more honest with these guys?

"Fine. I’ll do it. But let’s just do 1-on-1, a full team battle seems too stressful." He acquiesced with a laugh.

No one on the team seemed disappointed by his terms, like he was worried they might be. Probably too excited by the prospect of fresh blood in a team that didn’t seem to get much, in his experience.

It was time to put on a show for them, he supposed.

Though he was determined to be as little of a show-off as he was physically capable of today, not wanting to ruin the rapport he’d built by being an arsehole. That sort of thing was precious to come by, in his experience.

Gordie wanted to bring out Barbaracle, not having properly had the chance to train with him since he’d evolved. It seemed almost cruel, to use one of the few rock types that was also a water type in a rock gym.

Unfortunately for them, severity was something he definitely _had_ inherited from his mother.

Oliver brought out his Carkol and Gordie felt even crueller, bringing out a rock and water type to fight a rock and fire was hardly fair, especially one as cute as Carkol, who assured Gordie that his Coalossal had, in fact, always been adorable.

This battle was gonna be a massacre, he could tell as soon as they started.

Oliver on the other hand seemed clueless, jamming in physical attacks, and seeming confident he’d be able to down Barbaracle before Gordie could put his strategy to proper use.

Gordie wasn’t gonna let that happen.

He was a couple of shell smashes in when he could see Oliver start to get worried too, the reaction of someone who knew they’d fallen into a trap but couldn’t see any escape. When Gordie finally put him out of his misery it only took one Razor Shell to down poor, sweet Carkol.

"Anyone else wanna try?" He asked, hoping it didn’t sound quite as cocky as it felt.

The next three trainers he faced didn’t need any more than that either, his side already perfectly set-up after the first round of this impromptu battle royal.

By sheer force of will, Gordie managed not to say anything dickish or gloating when each of their Pokémon fainted; though he could feel a tremble in his hand, whether from sheer excitement of properly battling after so long or fear that he’d slip up and give something away, he couldn’t tell.

He shouldn’t have done this.

There was something intoxicating about winning, and winning here with his rock Pokémon by his side meant so much more than his victories at Circhester ever could. It made him want to march them over to the empty stadium, and dynamax his Coalossal to give them a _real_ show.

He’d only be stroking his own ego though, he knew, and it would hardly do much for him on the making friend part. Or the keeping his job a secret one.

Besides, they already seemed impressed enough. Not that it mattered.

(Gordie wished it didn’t matter.)

"You sure you didn’t go around taking over any leagues when you were travelling?" Oliver asked once they ran out of challengers.

"I met some cool rock trainers when I was travelling." He admitted. "And they were nice enough to pass on some tips and tricks."

"You gonna extend that favour to us?"

"Sure! If you want me to, I know I can get annoying with it when other people are training."

"I think if you fight like that, you can say what you like." Kiera said.

Gordie turned to laugh at her comment, but faltered, there was something a little darker in her expression, and he desperately hoped he hadn’t given anything away, or upset her somehow.

Arceus knew he understood how complicated losing could be when you were already overshadowed by another trainer in your family.

It sort of soured the victory, remembering that when it came down to it he was just beating down a bunch of people who had never had the training opportunities he’d been given in life.

And why? To make himself feel better that one whole person on the league board hadn’t thought he was special?

No.

He hadn’t done this because of Rose, or Melony, or anyone at Circhester.

He’d done it for him.

Gordie wasn’t going to feel sorry for himself, and he certainly wasn’t going to patronise these guys to do so. They’d _wanted_ him to fight, they wanted to get stronger too.

"Thanks guys for convincing me to get involved, I haven’t gotten to fight like that since I came home! Do you, er, want to do this again next week?" He asked.

He wouldn’t battle if he wasn’t welcome, but if he was then what was the harm?

"Yeah! We can try a proper team battle at some point if you want? Be warned though, I’m not gonna fall for that Shell Smash trick again!" Oliver promised.

"Great! I’ll bring that shy one I mentioned the first time I came. I think you’ll like him."

Gordie tried looking furtively around for Kiera, to check if she was still pissed off at him, thankful that she didn’t _look_ to be. Either way, he’d have to keep an eye on that, the last thing he wanted to do was alienate her right when they were starting to become friendly.

It was with that in mind that he sat out the rest of the lesson (once he’d passed out a few revives, he hadn’t intended to derail the entire group with his battle).It didn’t matter, he was still buzzing with excitement at the prospect of a full battle with his rock team for the first time in about half a year.

Next Wednesday couldn’t come quick enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened. It's weird because I have the events of this fic planned out until the end, and yet somehow every time I set out to write a chapter I end up writing an entirely separate group of events then planned. Hope you enjoy anyway.


	13. Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best laid plans start to unravel.

You know, the two gyms thing actually worked.

At least, it worked until it didn’t.

Gordie was aware that was probably an oversimplistic way of looking at it, but in his defence, that had been exactly how it had felt at the time.

It was the perfect solution, he’d felt more in control of his life, and more able to manage with the stress of Circhester when he was given the time to indulge his true passion. Even if it had been only once a week it had been enough for his ‘fix’. Besides, it had allowed him to construct his weekly calendar around that single event.

It was the happiest he’d felt in a very long time.

Really, it was more than typical that it imploded in his face in arguably the most dramatic way possible; when was anything in his life spared from melodrama, after all.

No, it wasn’t so much a single event triggering it, but multiple threads that had woven together into their inevitable conclusion.

The first part would have ruined the set-up eventually, even if the more… poorly timed occurrences hadn’t occurred.

The thing was, the League Challenge drew ever closer, at a (excuse the pun) glacial pace, still impossible to miss in its magnitude.

A sword of Damocles, hanging right over his bloody neck the whole time.

Liana had managed to convince him otherwise, though that must have just been naivety on his part.

It had been during training one day, she’d lingered behind and he’d thought nothing of it, she did it most days and at this point Gordie wasn’t sure how she’d ever coped at the gym before his return; not that he was exceptional company or anything, but all the other trainers on the squad were over twice her age, so they had less than nothing in common.

Except that day had been… different. She had been nervous and fidgety, on the backfoot for the entire conversation, despite Gordie’s attempts to put her at ease.

“Look, I had an idea.” She’d finally blurted (rather abruptly, clearly having been building up the nerve in silence.)

“For the gym? Fire away, you don’t need to be afraid to talk to me about this stuff.”

“Well, it’s to do with the league challenge.”

“Fire away then, but less enthusiastically.” He’d joked, glad when she hadn’t taken it to heart.

“It’s gonna happen even if you ignore it.”

He hadn’t had the heart to tell her about Rose’s warnings that it may not happen this year, a vision of something too far off and dangerous to utter into existence.

“It’s your first league challenge and I think you should do something special.”

“Hold on, it is not even remotely my first. I was on the squad for years.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count! We hardly have our names, like, up in lights or something.”

He’d seen his opportunity and seized it without guilt.

“Don’t tempt me. I could do that now, and I’m willing to use my powers for humiliation.”

“You wouldn’t.” She’d said. An obvious challenge.

“Hmmm. Depends on what that ‘idea’ of yours is.”

“Well… I think we should redesign the uniform.”

“Oh. That is definitely… an idea.”

His mother hadn’t redesigned dramatically in years, mostly just swapping out the sponsors as they came and left. She found the thing that represented her as a trainer and she’d stuck with him.

Good for her. Problem was, there was no way any variation of an ice uniform would manage that for him.

But Liana had been clearly so passionate about it to bring it up despite her nerves, so Gordie had tried to muster some excitement.

“We can definitely try that, I’m sure the league board will have some ideas.”

“I’ve made one. A picture I mean, obviously not, like, a real uniform. That’s the part I wanted to show you.” She said, so quickly at some points that he struggled to make the words out.

“Oh, sure. Show away.”

She’d pulled out her phone, before stopping, suddenly shy.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice, even if it’s rubbish.”

She’d pouted at him, playing him up, but a genuine fear still visible underneath.

“I’m kidding it won’t be rubbish at all, look at this.” He’d said, gesturing to their current uniform. “I look like a cloud. White on white? It’s not exactly the pinnacle of creativity.”

At that point he’d had the intense, split-second fear that her design was going to be the same colours, and that he was going to have made things a thousand times worse in his attempts to reassure her.

That had lasted until the exact moment she’d shown him.

Then he hadn’t really thought anything at all, just sort of taken it all in.

His first thought had been how dark it was, closely followed by just how much he liked it. He really hadn’t expected to. But she had pulled ideas out of her own head and put them out there, and she’d done it with him in mind, with how she saw his version of Circhester.

That was a pretty special feeling, one he was sure he’d be chasing for the rest of career.

(If only he’d known.)

“It’s cracked ice, right?” He’d asked, to her agreement.

It was obvious in his tone that he approved of it, he’d been practically as giddy as a child. He’d like it so much that the multitude of jokes he would be inviting by making his theme _broken ice_ didn’t occur to him until much later. Clearly, that hadn’t been her intention but some little bastards would have picked on the potential of it straight away.

(Was it better or worse that they’d never get the chance?)

The uniform had been navy, intersected by icy blue lines that separated the dark stretch into irregular panels. (Shards of ice, he’d known at once.)

The centre panel was white, formed from lines that were the edges of the rest. With the Circhester logo in the middle of it.

White on white still didn’t look right, but they couldn’t put anything in its place. It was literally the symbol of the gym.

“I really like it.”

“I’m so relieved.” She’d said, with an almost breathless laugh.

Unfortunately, the rest of the squad hadn’t been keen.

No, that hadn’t been accurate. It wasn’t the uniform they disliked; it was what it _represented_.

The end of the era of Melony.

He’d promised they’d decide on it democratically, not wanting to make them feel like he was forcing this new regime of Circhester onto them.

It still hurt that they vetoed it though, afraid of even the most surface level change.

Liana didn’t understand why he hadn’t stuck his ground, but he’d told her that this league challenge would be a good chance to find out who would make good replacements for them on the squad, when the time came, and then they could make an authentically new Circhester team, and wouldn’t that be the perfect time to unveil the uniform?

It had cheered her up, but had caused his stomach to drop.

Sure, he’d been able to cope since he’d started training at the other gym too, but something about the arrangement felt… impermeant.

Maybe that was why he was pissing off Melony’s old guard so much, maybe they could feel it too.

If problem one had been friction on the ice side of things, then the second problem was that he was getting overly invested in the other gym.

Obviously the more into it he got, the more likely he was to let something slip, and the deeper the betrayal would feel when he was inevitably found out.

In spite of all that, he persisted.

Oliver might have been using their sessions in large part to bond with other rock trainers, but Keira seemed to have bigger dreams; dreams she had apparently caught on that Gordie may be able to assist with.

When she’d started asking if Gordie’s trainer relative was a more senior positioned trainer he’d honestly thought he’d been found out, there had been an almost predatory joy on her face, like she was playing with him before she went in for the kill.

Thankfully, as it turned out, he wasn’t her victim after all. Her sister was, the poor girl. Keira was hoping Gordie would be able to help them register as an official gym using whatever knowledge and connections he had. If for no other reason than to trounce her in a real match.

At that point he was practically handing them a knife they’d be able to slide in his side later, right?

He could imagine the conversation.

‘Why can’t you join our gym again, Gordie?’

Whatever answers he could give to that would go down like a lead balloon; he was sure of it.

Knowing all this was to come, he helped them anyway. Because, honestly, it was an admirable cause if you asked him. A cause he wished he was brave enough to pursue directly, but if this was his part in furthering the public perception of rock type Pokémon then it would have to be enough.

He could sacrifice being able to train with people who didn’t get annoyed or fed up with his cockiness, or worn out by his advice, (seemed to take it on board even) once they were officially rivals on a league table.

Though they would be several leagues away, he reflected.

Somehow he managed to convince himself of that lie, or at least to the extent where he was comfortable leading them to that point, until Oliver had started inviting him out for other things.

Normal things, the sort of things friends would do.

Not work friends, or people who just ran in the same circles… but just, friend friends. 

It was embarrassing that Gordie didn’t really know how these sort of things were supposed to go.

Kiera he could understand, she seemed to keep him at an almost professional distance, like she could sense whatever it was that had kept people away from him his entire life until now.

But Oliver… well, he seemed to miss a lot of things like that to be honest.

They didn’t even live that far away and he still had no clue who Gordie really was. It wasn’t even that he was dumb, he was just uninterested in the social gossip that Circhester practically thrived on. 

As far as Gordie was concerned, Oliver was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t do things with pretence; when he acted in an overly excited way Gordie had assumed was him being polite, he was just genuinely excited. He didn’t bother to hide when he felt that way, or when he was put out, or when he felt envious.

Gordie was jealous at that himself, though it was sort of the whole problem that he would never admit it, wasn’t it? He just couldn’t imagine being able to feel so openly without being embarrassed when other people saw and reacted to it.

It made hanging out with him fun, and Keira seemed to begrudgingly accept his presence too, in time.

Now, the third thing contributing to his complete and utter downfall genuinely wasn’t his fault, presumably at least.

But whatever had happened to Coalossal was happening more, and happening closer to civilisation.

Just his bloody luck that the giant Darmanitan turned up on one of the evenings that Kabu was over.

Then again, it wasn’t Kabu that was the problem, he knew he was being unfair there. Still, he’d tagged along and as the hero of children (and many, many adults) across Galar, he’d stuck out like a sore thumb, and gathered them a fair crowd for them to have to keep back. 

Vulpix would be more than indispensable in the fight though. How often was it when two gym leaders (Three? Could Gordie and Melony both count at the same time?) gathered to fight a single Pokémon?

This was gonna make it all over the national papers, he knew, and his secret would be blown in an instant. No one lived far enough under a rock to miss that.

On that topic…

The funny thing about rocks was, in Pokémon typings fire and ice were both weak to it. Meaning that Darmanitan was going to have a very miserable time against him.

Funny thing about rock trainers on the other hand, was that one of them lived close to Gordie and had no common sense or self-preservation, and just enough skill to mean they wouldn’t immediately get crushed against a dynamax, especially when they had such a profound type advantage. 

Which is probably how Gordie found himself in this ridiculous fucking situation in the first place.

He wondered who was more surprised, himself to find Oliver already at the scene; or Oliver staring down Gordie and two of the most famous trainers in all of Galar. 

Lucky him, he wouldn’t need to read the details in the papers to know Gordie was a filthy liar, he got to be in the story instead.

Still, he was happy for the help in spite of the sinking feeling he’d had the entire battle, knowing a much worse confrontation was to follow.

The Pokémon battle itself was fine, they were four against one and had decent type advantage and a lot of talent on their side, it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the Coalossal one had been (Coalossal fighting on their side no doubt helped with that, Gordie thought with pride.)

Macro Cosmos weren’t willing to budge on collecting the captured Pokémon this time though, considering that the closer they got to central Circhester the more dangerous they became.

(The fact that it meant more people were breathing down their necks for a solution was left implied.)

It was almost impressive how quickly they were crawling all over the scene, and provided a brief distraction from the conversation he knew he was about to have.

Not brief enough.

“You know Kabu?” Oliver asked, almost reverently, once things were starting to wind down.

Once they finally had room to breathe.

“Um, yeah. I can introduce you if you want?” He offered, hoping that if he did that there was some way Oliver might forgive him after.

Bad idea, he was legitimately swaying at the idea, as if he might have collapsed on the spot.

“This isn’t real.” He said, though his voice was full of joy, and he was literally pinching his own arm. “How do you know _Kabu_? He’s… Kabu!”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” Gordie laughed, trying to enjoy the last moments before Oliver finally put everything together.

“He’s a friend of my mother.” He explained, gesturing to Melony, who was currently chatting to another Macro Cosmos goon, probably about public safety and vigilance and whatever else they kept talking about but doing nothing to fix.

Again, this did absolutely nothing to calm Oliver down.

“Melony is your mother?” His face changed, with the dawning realisation that in all of Gordie’s stories about his family, this was still a true fact. “Crap Gordie, Melony is…”

There were a lot of ways that sentence could finish, and Gordie wasn’t sure he wanted Oliver to say any of them while the woman in question was so close.

“Your mum is the leader of Circhester… that’s brutal man.” He laughed, commiserating Gordie’s rotten luck.

Impossible.

There was no way he didn’t know about his history, literally everyone knew.

Well, they knew he’d fought his mom a few years back and that Circhester had an ‘interim leader’ following Melony’s bereavement.

Maybe he hadn’t put a name and face together? Maybe he’d never looked for the name in the first place?

This was unbelievable, Gordie might actually be able to keep this up – implosion averted. 

Until when though? Tomorrow when the story dropped would his position be mentioned? Would Oliver read the story he’d been a part of?

If he didn’t that still only gave Gordie until the league challenge to carry on playing at normal.

He couldn’t keep this up.

It wasn’t fair on the people who’d dared to treat him like a friend, and so, knowing exactly what he’d find at the other end, Gordie lit the fuse.

“Actually, I’m the leader of Circhester.” He admitted, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible.

From the slack jawed look he got in response, he hadn’t succeeded.

Of course he hadn’t bloody succeeded, he’d just told his new friend who’d he’d spent weeks teaching how to officially register his amateur gym and try and join the league, that he was in charge of the third best gym in the entire region.

It was a ridiculous story, even to him.

“What? How?”

“My mother is -“ He began.

“No! How? You… you train with us?” He started. “How?”

“There’s not actually rules against this sort of thing when gyms are unregistered.” Gordie tried to explain.

“But why? Oh Arceus, you… Is this just some sort of joke to you?”

“What? No!”

“Then why? Why lie and mess around with a bunch of…”

“I didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want it to get back to the trainers at my gym!”

“Good luck with that then!” Oliver shouted. “Because Kiera’s sister is there and if you think for a second I’m gonna keep this secret after you were lying to us this whole time then-”

“I wasn’t doing it to mess with anyone though. Look Oliver, I wish I could spend my entire life training with you guys and getting to fight with Rock types. But you have no idea what I’m supposed to uphold at Circhester.”

“Oh how terrible, you’ve been _given_ a major league gym. You could make it a rock gym if you want, who cares? Instead you decided to just… come and gawk at us trying to do the same with nothing?”

It wasn’t that simple though was it?

Gordie almost wished Oliver would hide his fury this time, even if just a little bit. Because he couldn’t just make it a rock gym, every single person there was witness to him, and judging him.

Pokémon training was just a hobby to Oliver, it had never been that to Gordie. Ever since he’d been old enough to hold a Pokeball, he’d been scrutinised by his mother, by the others at her gym who didn’t believe he had a place there. Later by practically the whole of Circhester, all there to watch his miserable defeat against Melony.

It was the only thing he had ever found purpose in, through his entire life. If he let down his gym (let down Melony) now, what else did he have left?

He didn’t have that nice, normal life, with nice, normal friends to fall back on like Oliver.

He’d never been free to live his life in any way but this, and when he’d finally made his break for freedom it had been empty, and so, so lonely.

Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to build for them by setting up their gym. The freedom he’d never had.

It made him furious, Oliver was just looking at Gordie and presuming he’d been given everything in life; without bothering to imagine at what cost it had come.

People did it all though time though, he didn’t understand why this time it was practically boiling his blood.

It was painful to face even if he’d known it was coming, and for some bizarre reason Gordie wanted to make Oliver hurt too. It was petty, and it was unprofessional, but Oliver was never afraid to act that way, so why should Gordie be?

“You don’t understand and you’re not even trying to. I was never obliged to explain anything to you in the first place! You’re not a registered yet, there’s no rules against people from _real_ gyms coming to train.”

Oliver looked like he’d been slapped.

Honestly, Gordie hadn’t expected him to be that offended. It was Keira that had visions of turning their gym into something bigger, he’d always presumed that Oliver was just going along with what she said.

Apparently not.

“You were right when you said you were an arse, you know?” He said, storming off.

Joke was on him though, Gordie hadn’t even introduced him to Kabu yet.

Arceus, he _was_ a complete arse, wasn’t he?

Only Gordie could start a friendship under false pretences and act put-upon when it inevitably fell apart.

Stupid, lonely prat.

If his mom’s temper was ice, his tended towards pure fire – but now the heat was retreating and he was left to stew in the ashes of it all. 

Speaking of which…

“How much of that did you catch?” He asked her, after she’d clearly stuck around after all the fun was over to eavesdrop.

“He was from that gym you’ve been visiting?” She said in place of answering.

So, she’d heard almost all of it then.

“Yep, what are the chances of that. Small world.” He didn’t try to hide his bitterness.

“Do you wanna catch up to him? I can take care of things here.” She offered.

Considering she’d been warning him not to do this from the outset, he really appreciated that she was trying to help, and without commentary.

But there was nothing he could realistically do.

What would he even say? How could he possibly plead his case?

More than anything, he wanted to try.

But what then? Become the first gym leader who wanted another gym to succeed more than his own?

“No. It’s alright.”

It was better this way. He’d entered into this knowing that he’d inevitably hurt them, he didn’t suddenly deserve for things to go his way just because he’d gotten hurt too.

Besides, he’d obviously made a mess of things here, but he hadn’t promised them anything, it wasn’t as if he’d let them down – if they’d had expectations that was on them.

There was still the very real chance that he’d actually salvage the promise he’d made to his mom; he could devote himself to his own gym now.

Because if he felt this absolutely wretched after disappointing Oliver, how the fuck would he feel if he disappointed his mother too? After all this trouble _he’d_ caused in the first place.

The other gym would move on, and they’d gotten far enough in the registration process that they would be able to manage fine without his help.

Maybe he’d just become a funny anecdote they’d tell their future students about.

Gordie smiled at the thought, ignoring the stinging in his eyes.

There was no point heading back to theirs with Kabu, by the time he got there it would be time for him to head off again. Ordinarily he’d get a train, but after the night they’d just had Gordie wouldn’t begrudge him grabbing a taxi for some privacy.

His mother and he shouldn’t have left the kids alone, but Opal would realistically have been able to look after them, and it had been an emergency. Still, the sooner they were back, the better.

They pointedly didn’t talk about anything to do with Oliver as they headed home, hoping in vain that they would be able to ignore the whole incident.

The final nail in the coffin of that futile idea came through the letterbox, the next morning.

The photo in the paper showed him and Coalossal together; didn’t even say anything on the topic, but it didn’t need to. As the adage went, a picture was worth a thousand words, and each one was damning for him.

Not to mention that given what Oliver had said yesterday, and the obvious resemblance between them (stupid, stupid Gordie for missing it this long) Kiera was most likely _Liana’s_ sister.

Which was… fantastic.

If nothing else, it put a different spin on the stories Keira had told; but she’d been wrong. Liana hadn’t been doing all this extra work for him, at least not for the reason’s Kiera seemed to think.

She’d shared his vision of a whole new version of their gym, only now she’d probably understand just how different their ideas of that actually were.

He deserved it, the one person in Circhester Gym he considered trustworthy would be filled in on the truth, not to mention whatever family drama he’d vented under the veil of anonymity.

All the humiliating, sordid details.

Desperately, he hoped it wouldn’t make it back to his mother. 

It wasn’t a great feeling to wake up to and in spite of himself knowing he’d brought all of this upon himself, it had put him on the defensive.

Which was probably why he was snapping at his mom, when she was suggesting damage control.

“I’m not gonna make up a story, I have every right to do what I want in my own time. It’s none of their business.”

“I understand where you’re coming from,” She paused. “but some of the other trainers might think It’s unfair if you’re leader while having your passions lie elsewhere.”

“Then let them. I can’t control how they feel.”

Obviously, that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“I’ve never let any of this interfere with my work in Circhester, if they think they can do a better job of it they’re welcome to try.” He continued. 

“Gordie…” She began, letting the ‘you know that they couldn’t’ go unspoken.

“Maybe I should tag along today to try and smooth things out?” She offered.

“I don’t think bringing _my mom_ along to work with me gives the best impression, to be honest. I’ll just be honest with them, and give them a chance to air any grievances with that.”

She was watching him, cautiously, and he could tell that whatever she wanted to say was already there, she was just trying to consider whether it was worth it.

“I just think they might react better if I was the one saying it, it’s just… familiarity, you know?.”

Bloody liar.

They both knew that her gym trainers preferred her over him, most of them would never truly see them in the same way; what was the point in lying about it if they weren’t going to do anything about it?

He really wasn’t in the mood for it today.

“They’re never gonna get ‘familiar’ with me, if we don’t let them.” He reasoned.

Mostly he just didn’t want his mother there to watch if he cocked it up.

They ended the conversation there for the morning, if for no other reason than the little ones’ pounding footsteps on the stairs alerting them to the fact the rest of the house had woken up.

It didn’t matter what was going on, they shouldn’t be dragged into this.

So Gordie readied himself for working, for whatever firing squad would be waiting for him.

How much would Kiera have told Liana?

Did Liana have any understanding towards him? Or would she have told the others everything?

He grabbed Coalossal’s pokeball before he left, hoping he wouldn’t be forced to use it. There were a roiling knot of nerves in his gut telling him he was wrong about that though.

Either way, the warmth as he held him helped Gordie feel a little more ready to take on the day, a nice counterbalance to how heavy the ice Pokémon felt at his side.

Unsurprisingly, it was far from business as usual that morning.

From the second he stepped into the door he was faced with a barrage of question, from trainers who had clearly turned up early with the sole aim of ambushing him.

It felt like a sea of strangers, accusing him, cold looks without recognition on their faces.

“The Coalossal I was using was the same Gigantamax one from an earlier incident.” He began, when questioned about the photo in the newspapers. “Macro Cosmos agreed to let me look after it to ensure the Pokémon himself was safe…”

That part was actually fairly easy to explain, he’d been seen capturing Coalossal and no one could deny that either of the fights had been in the interest of greater public safety.

But Liana must have told the others whatever Keira had told her, because it was somebody else entirely who asked about the amateur rock gym.

“Rock type training is a… hobby I picked up while travelling. Most other regions aren’t so obsessively devoted to specific types, you know? But I wasn’t going to force it on anyone here.” He explained.

“You really have to take the piss out of us? You’re the leader, you’re _meant_ to be devoted.”

“I’m not making fun of anyone. If people weren’t getting drunk, violent, and overly invested in sports teams then it wouldn’t really be Galar, right?” He joked.

Okay, that was snappier than he’d needed to be, but considering he’d lived his life under the thumb of those exact people, it felt deserved. Still, that wasn’t his team’s fault and they were right, he was meant to be devoted.

“You’re directly creating rival teams and helping them out! How are we supposed to believe you’re loyal to us?”

“Look, I am genuinely sorry about this. But Circhester Gym is my home. Literally, I was practically raised here.” He laughed. “I promise that even if I’m encouraging trainers outside of this gym, it’s always in the spirit of healthy competition, I love this place and I want us to thrive in the league challenge not flop. I would never do anything to sabotage our performance.”

“Except that you’re not even an ice trainer.” Someone pointed out.

Fair. But they had no way of actually knowing that.

“I’ve trained Ice Pokémon my entire life! I still do, in fact. My training with other types of Pokémon is limited to a few hours a week, and besides it’s important to be versatile, right? Champion Leon works with every type of Pokémon, and that sort of hands on experience is clearly working out well for him.”

Strictly speaking, gym leaders weren’t forbidden to use different typed Pokémon in tournaments in which they weren’t acting in the capacity of their gym, but it was definitely considered… tacky, in a way.

No one here would be happy about it if he started doing _that_.

It was time to pull out his grand finisher.

“I understand that this has probably hurt a lot of the trust you have in me.” As if they’d ever really had any. “So I’m going to open up challenges for the leadership today, sign up and we’ll arrange the battles directly within the next few weeks.”

They could say what they liked about him, but no one could claim he hadn’t been handling this fairly now. 

The way he saw it was, if any of them doubted his resolve and fancied their own chances against him, let them try it. If any of them actually managed to beat him, clearly they wanted it more in the first place.

Not that any of them _would_ be able to, that much he knew.

Fewer names than he’d expected signed up, a few clearly doing it as a joke. Micah was the only one in their gym challenge squad who had done so, most likely having been nominated by the others.

Gordie wondered if Liana had supported their efforts or not. She hadn’t asked a single question this morning, she’d barely looked at him at all.

It wasn’t ideal, but it hadn’t completely blown up in his face like he’d expected.

Until his mother turned up that is, against everything he’d asked of her that morning, promptly causing his entire resolve to fall to pieces.

She must have heard he’d opened a Leadership Challenge. 

Why couldn’t she just trust him with this?

She wasn’t willing to leave the gym in the hands of strangers (her own bloody team, really) but suddenly she wasn’t willing to leave it with him either?

One fuck up later?

A deeply resentful part of him knew that Circhester had always come first when it came to his mother’s priorities, she’d admitted so herself after his stepdad’s death, but he’d ignored it.

He’d deluded himself into thinking that if he’d taken over back then, she’d finally have left it well enough alone.

Of course she wouldn’t, she’d never been able to until now.

Worst part was how they watched her, as if their real leader was finally back to put Gordie in his place. To make everything great for them.

This was too soon after everything last night, he could feel his temper rising again.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said.

“You’re gonna let your stubbornness mess up a really minor misunderstanding if you’re not careful.” She warned him.

A minor misunderstanding? They thought he didn’t want to be here; they were right.

The only person not grasping the situation here was her.

“That’s my choice! Is this my gym or not?”

“Of course it is!”

“Then for one second could somebody act like it is then!” He shouted.

The entire room were watching him now, taking his words as a challenge against Melony’s supreme authority.

If they wanted her so bloody much, they could have her.

“We’re not doing this here.” He said.

Ostensibly they left to talk in private, except Gordie knew for a fact everyone was the other side of that door, listening in.

“I’m just trying to help.” She claimed.

“No, it’s you trying to take control of things, like always. You really won’t just let me have this, will you?” He laughed. 

“What do you mean? I gave it to you on a platter Gordie! I literally gave you everything you would ever need; I don’t know how you’ve managed to screw it up!”

Him screw it up?

It was hardly his fault that Melony would rather entrust her legacy to someone who never wanted it in the first place.

Gordie was certain none of them would be able to maintain their position in the majors without her, but if she truly believed in her gym shouldn’t she have given them the chance to try?

No, somehow she’d managed to shift the burden onto him instead. Managed to delude herself that she was doing this for Gordie, not for her gym itself.

They’d always resented him on nepotism grounds; it wasn’t a surprise that he’d become the villain in this so easily.

But it was pathetic. Why were they blaming him for the fact that Melony didn’t want to carry on in the first place?

This gym was poison, he wanted nothing to do with it.

“ _Gave_ it to me?” He asked, even harsher than he’d intended. “Gave me what, a gym neither of us wanted?”

Both of them knew they’d gone too far, but neither seemed willing to back down.

“I never forced this on you… You were in the best position for it when I needed it.”

“No! I was in a completely different region. For once just be honest, you chose me because you don’t trust any of them, and because Circhester was more important to you than anything else. Like always.”

“How dare you?” She practically hissed, icy fury clear in her words. “My children are the most important thing in the _world_ to me. I told you I had no expectation Gordie, you chose this. You chose all of this!”

He winced at the force of her anger, but he wasn’t backing down.

“What choice did I have? You’d just been bloody widowed.” He argued. “I think you’ve honestly convinced yourself that you were doing this to make me happy, but you weren’t. Because the second I try to do things my way, everyone else is ready to revolt.”

“I hope you’re not trying to blame me for that, I don’t control them or what they want from you.”

“The only thing they want from me is for me to be _you_! That’s all anyone has ever wanted from me, and you know it!”

Even he wasn’t sure where the next accusation came from, though as he said it _felt_ true, if very cruel to say.

“And you like it that way.” 

His entire tenure, no his entire life. It had always been the same story.

But that was a stupid hope on their part.

Because trainers like her were how trainers like him were made in the first place, right?

Insecure, and neurotic, saddled with ridiculous expectation from the first battle they ever entered.

Wouldn’t he just be starting the cycle again if he pretended he could be her in the first place?

That’s what she’d wanted really, if she’d actually wanted him to be happy she wouldn’t have thrust the very burden that made him run away in the first place on him. Especially when she could obviously tell he was in an even worse place now than he’d been the last time. 

Letting it grind him down, day in and out.

“But I can finally admit I will never be happy doing that. I don’t want to be anything like you.” He said, shocked at how deathly quiet it came out.

It didn’t matter though; it had spoken volumes.

He didn’t have a badge he could throw to signify his resignation, but for once he was sure he’d made his intentions crystal clear.

So he left, refusing to look at any of the trainers (who’d been exactly where he’d expected and didn’t bother to hide it) as he left.

It wasn’t until he’d made it home, packing his bag once more; like he’d done too many times to count, that the shock finally wore off.

They hadn’t had to draw a single Pokeball this time, but it felt like they’d managed to tear everything apart again.

If he left again today, he’d really never come back, would he?

He doubted Melony wanted him back this time.

She’d outright admitted he’d screwed up what she’d wanted of him, what she’d wanted for his life.

Knowing one of them had to be brave enough to break this cycle, he headed to the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 86 days and I'm guessing most the audience have moved on from the SWSH trend, but that's cool - just one of those 2020 things. hahaha
> 
> In case anyone has been re-reading in the meantime, I'm sorry that I've brought nothing but pain this chapter. Surely it can only go up from here though?


	14. A change of pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordie had been right, he didn't have a normal life to fall back on. He didn't have anything to fall back on. 
> 
> Which was probably why he was living in a state of nothingness.

“Don’t.” He heard from behind him.

His mother’s voice. 

Shit. What was she doing back so early?

Her tone was still cold, and when he looked over her expression seemed to match.

Obviously, she must have cancelled the rest of the workday, after his outburst. Of course she would have.

Why had she been waiting downstairs?

Was she going to yell at him for being a brat and ruining the gym for them both?

Was she going to apologise, admit that he was right?

Did she expect him to apologise?

“The little three will be back from school in a few hours.” She said instead.

They’d come back and find him gone forever, if he went through with it. They’d lose him barely after he’d helped them cope with losing their dad. Children weren’t built to manage all that change, that instability.

He understood, she didn’t want him to stay necessarily, or rather, she wasn’t ready to address… everything. But she could tell that if he left, it wouldn’t be until her funeral he returned this time.

Clearly they were both at some in-between state, not wanting either of those outcomes.

When the others got home they seemed oblivious, and over dinner he couldn't work up the nerve to say he was planning on leaving.

It never got any easier to try and be the one who ruined this for them.

So he stayed, unpacked, and carried on… living.

Even if he was doing little else, most days. 

Honestly, it felt a little anti-climactic.

Melony didn’t bring it up again. They weren’t even yelling at each other.

Of course, that was probably because they weren’t necessarily _speaking_ to each other.

He’d expected (feared) that disappointing Melony was going to crush him. After all, hurting Oliver and the others had, even if that felt so distant sometimes that it was hard to really understand why it had bothered him in the first place.

This time he wasn’t bothered. It made sense when he _really_ thought about it though, he’d been disappointing his family since before he was born. This was just more of the same, right?

It was almost like he’d never left at all.

Sometimes he almost wished that it did hurt. He should feel guilty about this he knew; he’d messed up on an extraordinary scale. It had been one for the history books of unprecedented fuck ups. But he just couldn’t muster the energy for it.

Arceus, he couldn’t gather enough energy for stuff way less intense than this. He had no bloody chance.

Before his gym leadership attempt had failed, his days seemed to go by so fast he could scarcely keep track, all blurring together into one.

(Maybe that’s how he’d missed all the warning signs.)

Now his days were slow, and seemed to stretch out forever.

Which made it so much worse that he couldn’t get a single thing done.

Well, he managed the things that _had_ to be done, more or less.

The kids needed packed lunches in the mornings, if they didn’t have it they’d starve; adamantly refusing to just eat school dinners, claiming that they were all terrible even though they went to a school Gordie remembered as being one of the posher ones in the area.

Fussy little buggers.

Melony couldn’t make them, she’d be late for work at the gym ( _her_ gym) if she did.

Gordie was grateful for the reason to get up in the morning, if nothing else.

He always offered Opal one and she always refused, a well-practiced routine, from someone who clearly knew what he’d done and hated him for it.

But they were the first words he said each morning after sitting away from Melony in silence, so he carried on asking anyway. 

Really, he should have made himself one. The little ones always had a balanced lunch, Melony having apparently learnt about and implemented nutrition into her family’s life at some point after he’d been old enough to not have him mom make his meals for him.

Shouldn’t he be looking after himself better now that he had the time to?

He reasoned that if he was making food anyway it really wouldn’t be a chore to make himself something as well.

Turns out he was really crap at persuasion, because he never did prepare anything.

Mornings were the busy times. Well, relatively; he knew that they weren’t really, in the grand scale of things.

However, once everyone else had left, the house was much quieter, and slower.

Gordie usually went back to bed then, not yet quite resigned to the idea of watching daytime TV.

Sometimes he hoovered.

Sometimes he showered.

Most the time, he lay staring at the ceiling considering doing either of those things, or anything really, while staying exactly where he was.

Lying there for so long, he often imagined things in his head. Scenarios and how he’d react to them, nothing super out there, just stuff like Oliver or Liana texting him (Liana didn’t have his number, but it wasn’t outside the realms of possibilities that her sister would give it to her for hate mail purposes.)

Even his own thoughts he couldn’t quite imagine reconciliation, so he mostly just created condemnations.

In reality of course he didn’t even get that, and he wasn’t sure if that was worse. Either way, he knew it was what he deserved.

By the early afternoon he’d have to shake himself out his self-pity, and go and check the meal plan to start preparing for tea. Originally Melony had continued to do the shopping, catching on that it was the one job he wasn’t going to do, but then he’d figured out he could just do it online and get it delivered.

Technology was amazing, able to solve both their problems.

It wouldn’t take as long as he was allocating to make the meal, or rather it _shouldn’t_ do. But the kitchen window faced into the back garden, and looking out into it always made him feel guilty.

His Pokémon needed time outside, they needed the fresh air.

Sometimes he took them out there, but lately it was getting harder.

Honestly, he was a little scared of what he might do if he did take them out there.

Green, open spaces were meant to be helpful when you were feeling bad. Now, Gordie wasn’t feeling bad, but he wasn’t a bloody idiot, he was fully aware that he wasn’t exactly feeling _good_ either.

So he’d gone, trying to do something to help himself.

It had been a mistake.

He’d started taking his Pokémon with him, alternating his teams, once again aware that they’d both faced a dramatic reduction in their time in the outside world.

Whenever he went somewhere, he’d only take the roads in the direction of the outskirts, not wanting to go to any of the parks closer to the centre of the town.

The world had kept rushing on like normal after all this, and if he couldn’t take a break from… everything for at least a little while; the least he could do was not bump into other people.

He didn’t want anyone to see him, whether that was because he knew he looked worse than shit, or that he just didn’t want to be reminded of anything else in Circhester, he wasn’t sure.

It was peaceful in the outskirts.

He hadn’t been sure if it had been making him feel better, until one of the days he’d brought his ice team.

They’d looked happy, frolicking around in a place that was pretty close to all of their original homes.

So he’d set them all free.

Forever free.

All but one, having gotten to Frosty and been unable to go through with it.

She’d never been wild, had she? She’d been a gift, and a life with Gordie was all she’d known.

All she was supposed to have known anyway, having spent a few years shoved in a PC. She’d probably expected a better life than this, but if he did let her go she’d just become a trophy for one of those people who obsessively searched for shiny Pokémon.

He didn’t really have an answer for whether it would be better or worse to release her.

It did however answer for him if he was feeling better or not for getting into nature.

After crying for what he could only assume was hours in a clearing over whether his Frosmoth hated him or not, he was gonna go out on a limb and say it was a hard no.

He felt guilty for releasing the other ice Pokémon, a pokeball actually sounded pretty nice right now. An insular space where you could sleep, peacefully separate from the rest of the world.

But he also felt guilty for holding on to the ones he had, because surely they’d want to be able to do something with their time? To be with a trainer who was actually going to make something of his life.

This is why he couldn’t go into the garden.

Hence why he gave himself so much time to make tea, having this exact debate every single day.

Whenever he let himself think too long about anything these days he always found himself drowning.

It wasn’t a surprise he was (always) already tired by the time Melony picked the kids up from school, a job he’d actually offered to do, even though it was central.

She’d refused and it had stung.

One of the few things she’d said since… everything, and it was just to put across that he was an embarrassment who shouldn’t be seen around her kids’ friends parents.

He didn’t get why, it wasn’t like he’d told her about his episode the other day (week?) in the woods.

He hadn’t told anyone.

How could he? The only people who really spoke to him in the house were five years old. 

So they spoke about other stuff over dinner instead, always directed at one of the triplets, never at each other.

He wondered if they noticed that.

Ideally he liked to go back to his room after that, but Platty would sometimes drag him downstairs.

They didn’t really do any Pokémon training anymore, and he didn’t show him how to break his neck with gymnastics either.

Platty was insistent, but it was one of those unstoppable force, immoveable object scenarios.

Apparently, even Platty couldn’t try forever.

For some reason he still wanted Gordie downstairs though, usually just cuddling into him on his lap as Gordie absentmindedly stroked his hair. He seemed to find it comforting, and realistically, it was the only help Gordie was able to provide to anyone lately. 

The TV was always on when this happened, but for the life of him he wouldn’t be able to say watch they’d been watching, any night.

Sometimes he noticed Opal, watching them with something he couldn’t quite make out on her face. It was nothing good, he knew.

Most the time he may as well have been in his room though.

Melony said less than thirty words to him most days he reckoned. He had her matched for it, less out of stubbornness for once in his life, but mostly because without doing anything, he didn’t really have anything to talk about.

They didn’t start their days with cups of tea, or end them with hot chocolate. 

They just sort-of co-existed in the same house. Both too afraid of what would happen if they broke the peace. 

It felt like he was constantly on the precipice of something, somehow.

But what could it possibly be? What could possibly happen that would make him feel any worse than he already did?

What it could be was irrelevant, because what it really turned out to be was always the same.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing was happening.

One evening among a deluge of more nothing, leaflet for something was slipped under his door, glossy and colourful and obnoxiously there.

A leaflet for counselling.

His first thought was that Melony was mocking him, telling him that he was falling apart while she was perfectly able to pick up where he’d left off. All without having said a word.

For once he was actually angry again, sorely tempted to march downstairs and make Platty’s Torchic _burn_ it, right in front of her. Let her know _exactly_ what he thought of that idea.

Of course, there was also the perfectly reasonable possibility that she just thought he should talk to someone.

There wasn’t even any guarantee that it was her who’d slid it under, it could have just as easily been Opal.

Either way, he was obviously worrying someone, which was the last thing he wanted.

They were wrong. (They had to be.)

He didn’t need to talk to anyone, but he could at least look like he was putting in the effort, he knew. 

First course of action was a haircut, it seemed like a good way to show he was trying.

It took him a few days to get everything ready. (Days all filled with nothing.)

He went more central to do so, in spite of the brief surge of terror from doing so. It was the most present he’d felt in a long time, that fear.

But present didn’t mean pleasant.

The haircut itself was… fine. The barber was a chatty guy who mostly spoke at him, about things Gordie was honestly trying to listen to but couldn’t seem to actually remember once he’d left the shop.

He hadn’t known what to think when he’d been shown the end result in his reflection.

It looked shorter? Which was sort of the whole point of a haircut.

At some point the yellow had faded, or grown out, and Gordie was distantly surprised; certain that the dye should have held longer on white hair, even if he couldn’t exactly remember when he’d last done it.

He hadn’t styled his hair in ages either, feeling softer for it. Domed and smooth, making him look exactly like Melony. At least it was in good condition?

That was the only part of him that seemed any better for his little break from civilisation. The rest of him looked tired and puffy and very pale. Like glass, or ice, he thought unhelpfully.

Honestly, he wished he could care at this point.

He didn’t care, but he was putting on a good show of it. Talking more over dinner, helping out the triplets with whatever imitation of homework they’d been given (Even he could help with reception work). Even helping them with their Pokémon, sometimes.

Acting out the vestiges of real living, like he was actually thinking about what came after tomorrow.

Maybe it was making him feel better? It was hard to tell, his days were slow but they still blended, making it hard to really compare how he’d felt yesterday to two days ago. Or three.

It wasn’t enough. 

Pretty much everything in Circhester was like a lake up to the level of your lips, lapping at your nose as you trod water.

Sure, you weren’t drowning, but you were hardly swimming either.

But he had no reason to leave, and if he dared to, he would never build up the strength to return.

On the same wavelength even when they were on drastically different pages, Melony seemed to have the reached the same conclusion, when she invited Opal over.

Only she must have been a very good actress, because she seemed every bit as confused by the older woman as he currently was.

“You want me to come help out in Ballonlea?” He asked, as if going over the idea again would help it make any sense.

It didn’t.

“Why ask when you clearly must have heard me the first time?” She challenged in response.

She really was spiteful sometimes, wasn’t she?

“Because… Why would you even need me there?” He pointed out, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

Ballonlea had been fine for decades, why would she suddenly need the help of someone several towns away, who’d already made a grand, old mess of working at his last gym.

Unless his mother had asked her to ask him, to get him away.

“A lot of my other trainers are… not quite as youthful as myself.” She joked. “So I could use a strong, young pair of hands around the place.”

Her eyes watched him carefully before he continued, like a Corviknight stalking prey. 

“And I just so happen to know one such young man who has plenty of experience and currently a lot of free time.” She said pointedly.

Fantastic. Confirmation that Melony had in fact been telling the others about him.

Kabu still came over, but Gordie never came down for dinner with the others those nights; no doubt he knew everything anyway, if Opal did. 

Arceus, that was humiliating.

Granted his mother only really had two friends she could go to about all this, but that was two more than Gordie, and he felt helplessly outnumbered. 

“That makes sense. Is it alright if I think on it?” He asked.

“There’s really not that much to think on.”

Just because she wasn’t wrong, it didn’t mean she had to say it.

This was the most anyone had expected from him in… a while. Of course he could do it, he told himself. It would be way less than he’d been doing at Circhester (though, clearly, he _hadn’t_ been able to do that), and he was far from pink enough for Opal’s taste regarding succession.

If Melony hadn’t asked her to do this, Opal herself probably did genuinely need the assistance from someone she knew could be halfway competent in a Pokémon gym.

It was still possible that he was just being lured into Ballonlea so he could be taken into the woods and kidnapped by fairy type Pokémon though.

A bonus really, he thought sardonically.

“You know what, sure. I’ll do it.” 

He agreed to do it under the pretence of running low on funds from before he’d resigned (refusing to live with his Melony without paying his own way). Major league paid well, but not _that_ well.

Somehow he didn’t think he was fooling either of them, just desperate for a legitimate reason to have time and space away from all of this.

It wasn’t running away, he told himself.

It was just… a change of pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, but tonally it just didn't fit with any of the content before or following it, mostly because I'm basically trying to physically manifest anhedonia throughout it.


	15. The Wizard's Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordie hopes he's finally found a new start here, only when you're working with an old lady who loves to poke at old wounds that may not be possible.

“Lunches are on the kitchen side, Pearl’s is the one without the crust.” He said.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that, I’m sure you’ve got loads to get ready.”

“It’s fine. I think by this point they’d take it personally if I didn’t. Besides, I’ll probably be gone before they’re even up so I want to make sure they know I remembered them.” 

“They’ve got you wrapped around their little finger, haven’t they?” Melony laughed.

It was easier to speak to one another armed with the knowledge they’d be going their separate ways within the next hour, Gordie found.

Maybe he was just imagining the change; after all, they hadn’t actually been spending time together before now. Yet both the gym and home itself were constantly full of reminders of Melony for him, and he imagined it may have been the same on her part.

Trapped with each other’s ghost, even as they desperately tried to avoid one another.

Sort of the forgone conclusion of trying to ignore your mother’s existence while still living with her, he thought sarcastically.

He tried to be optimistic that they might finally be free from that crushing silence once more, absence apparently making the heart grow fonder and all that rubbish. But somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that his time away would just give his family chance to heal without him, cutting him out.

He wasn’t sure if that was a fear or a hope on his part. 

If he was gonna make the train he wanted, he would have to leave before the little ones were up, calling out his goodbyes from the bottom of the stairs instead, in case they were awake and just being lazy shits.

As he opened the door to set off his mother caught his shoulder, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as she wished him good luck.

Gordie definitely wasn’t imagining the change then, he mused, caught off-guard by her actions. 

It hadn’t been hard to make a show of having loads of energy for his first day, he was used to getting up early. It was the staying awake once he was alone that proved to be the problem most of the time.

Luckily, he’d picked an early enough train that it wasn’t packed with commuters, giving him the chance to let out Barbaracle to keep guard from the seat next to him so he could hopefully nap risk-free. 

Distantly he’d wondered if Shuckle might not have been the better choice, more compact and able to stash valuables in his shell. It didn’t matter, he was tired enough that he slept easily, and awoke to find he hadn’t missed his stop or been robbed blind.

Which was all you could ask for from a journey, really.

He’d made a silent resolve to himself, to find at least one interesting thing each day he was here. Just so he had something to talk about in the evenings, to stop his family from thinking he was practically sleepwalking through his life.

Immediately after getting off the train he realised he may have been setting the bar a bit low with that.

Ballonlea had always seemed magical when he was a child and coming back here, he had a brief rush of joy that the feeling was recaptured in its intensity.

When was the last time he’d felt anything like that?

It wasn’t like he was super worldly or anything, but he was fairly well travelled and he honestly believed there was nowhere in the world quite like here. Awe was probably the word for it. A sort of mixture between fascination, confusion, and little bit of fear; so unlike anywhere you’d could have ever visited before it.

It was a strange place.

A town that was very well suited to its gym leader, in that respect. 

On the first day they didn’t really spend any time in the gym at all, leaving the trainers to their own devices and heading off into the woods, in patrol of ‘trouble’ that Opal refused to elaborate on.

Now, he knew that she wouldn’t really sacrifice him to some ancient fairy Pokémon, but you could never be too careful about these things. _Especially_ when Opal seemed fully keyed into his anxieties, and if anything, amplified them just because she could.

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous, you’re the closest you’ll ever be to safe in these woods when I’m accompanying you.”

“Closest?” He asked wryly.

She just smirked, the absolute witch.

“Well… Accidents do happen.”

He’d half expected her to cackle at that point.

In spite of what he could only assume was intentionally off-putting behaviour, she did not in fact turn him into a human sacrifice. Nor did they encounter any of the mysterious ‘trouble’ that Opal seemed to believe they might.

It was… nice, he guessed.

Among the otherworldly hues, fluorescent purples, blues, and greens unlike anything else he’d ever seen in nature, it was possible to pretend you were in a different world, for a little bit.

Even the trees were different here, large, gnarled and reaching out to one another, as if holding hands in the canopy. Everything was cast in that dream-like pink light that meant that there was no concept of night or day out here, or even time itself really.

It was easy to understand how so many people got lost here, even without the occasional glimpses of fairy Pokémon lurking just out of sight.

(For now.)

Gordie tried not to be disappointed once they made it back to the Stadium entrance, electric lights sending him crashing back to reality.

After that, still riding the feeling he’d had in the woods, he didn’t really take all that much time to reflect on the gym itself, mostly just relieved that she didn’t expect him to wear a uniform, letting him take an officiator’s jacket instead.

Apparently there weren’t enough male trainers at the gym to ensure they had proper uniforms in stock. Gordie wasn’t _entirely_ convinced that was strictly true, but he’d been too grateful to question it, lest he end up getting one ordered specially for him. 

It wasn’t that he had any vendetta against pink and mint _specifically_ , he just sort of avoided eye-catching colours in general, having ditched all the vestiges of Alolan fashion once he’d returned home.

(Plus, wearing even this jacket felt like disloyalty to Circhester.)

He’d gotten on the train home feeling a little more lively, for that time of day.

When he’d gotten home he’d described the woods to the triplets with what little time he saw them before they were tucked in for the night, clearly having captured their imaginations; somehow getting roped into the promise of bringing them glowing fungi – on the proviso to his mother that they would be safe for human consumption, just in case.

It was an alright set-up, really.

A problem only started to arise a few days in.

Well, maybe not a problem, that was unfair (or at least premature).

But definitely a… peculiarity.

Gordie had assumed that when she’d taken him into the woods on the first day she had been doing so as a one off, an introductory tour of sort, and that she would usually take a more involved role in the gym.

Apparently he had been wrong.

They walked a patrol there every day, in search of something that Opal clearly had some expectation of, even if she appeared to not know when it would appear, or where.

No amount of research was clearing it up for him, something about the mystery of it all annoying him like nothing had in months. But it was in vain, he couldn’t find any news articles about crime in the area, any records of Pokémon related events that would be time dependant there, or literally anything that would explain her behaviour.

Within days, half of him wanted to waltz into the bloody Hammerlocke Vaults to see if they had some esoteric documents mentioning it.

Worse was, even when she was in the gym’s building she didn’t really seem to be doing… well, _anything._

So in what was an act of generosity and definitely _not_ irritation (though he wasn’t sure what others would have to say on that), he asked if there was anything she needed done to do with coaching.

He’d waited until they were on one of their strange patrols (at this point partway convinced that they were just strolls to pass the time) to ask, still feeling the dull ache of betrayal whenever he remembered Melony undermining him in front of everyone. He didn’t want to cross that line with Opal.

She smiled dismissively at his offer anyway.

“Are you familiar with the concept of Laissez-Faire leadership?” She asked, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was being patronised.

As if any of the hours of teaching on leadership theory he’d been forced to sit through had actually helped in practice.

“Yes. I was _actually_ qualified when I led Circhester, you know.” He replied bitterly. “Though I can understand the confusion considering how _that_ went.”

Arceus, where had that come from?

Even he was embarrassed by his sudden pity party, not sure why he had let a simple question get under his skin so much. Thankfully, Opal chose to ignore what he’d said.

If only to burrow that little bit deeper.

“That’s all well and good, but you haven’t actually proved you know what it is.” She pointed out.

Alright, now she was definitely doing it to annoy him.

He knew what is was.

Or at least, fifteen-year-old him had learnt what it was and assumed he’d remember, never bothering to revise it once he’d gotten his qualifications on paper. 

Still, he was fairly sure he remembered the broad strokes.

“It’s where you say you’re the leader, but don’t actually do anything and then use a fancy word from Kalos to describe it.” He tried, knowing she’d be far from impressed with his answer.

Why was he doing this? Surely, antagonising Opal during the first week he was working for her was a bad idea.

But it was too infuriating to remain silent watching her do nothing, when he’d tried so hard, and failed pathetically regardless.

She just laughed, as if at the misery she could see underneath rather than his response itself.“More or less.” She acknowledged. “Though I’m guessing from your answer that you tend towards micromanagement, like your mother.”

He bloody didn’t.

“I do not! Melony literally has a shed full of sticky notes so she can obsess over things months away!”

It wasn’t fair to start airing her dirty laundry with her friend, Gordie knew. But she hadn’t spared him the same courtesy, had she?

“Melony?”

Shite. Had he said Melony? He could’ve sworn he’d said mum.

“Force of habit.” He explained.

She just silently watched him, quirking a brow over rheumy eyes , still sharp enough to compel him to continue.

“When I trained at Circhester I’d always call her Melony, avoiding nepotism accusations, you know? Sometimes, when we’re talking training stuff, it can just slip out.”

That was half the story.

It had become a sort of compartmentalisation thing as he’d gotten older, helping him separate the mother who loved him from the gym leader who was never satisfied with anything he did.

Since he’d come home, it had been different. He hadn’t needed that, or so he’d thought.

When had that changed?

“I imagine it was hard avoiding those sorts of accusations when you were genuinely more talented than most her trainers back when you were in primary school.” She joked.

He forced a laugh, but it wasn’t funny. At that age he hadn’t understood how arrogant it seemed, a child beating a teen or an adult and being nothing but proud in their skill.

It hadn’t endeared him to many of them, that was for sure.

Opal was unfathomable, she had to know they were treading on a minefield every sentence they spoke; it was like she was just pricking him everywhere she could find, to see which spots he’d bleed from.

Though he should have expected it when he’d agreed to work for her, she was known for asking… _difficult_ questions, and that was to people who hadn’t broken the heart of someone she was protective over. 

“I wasn’t trying to put you in a strop.” She said, once more practically plucking his thoughts from his mind.

Could she do that? Gordie had heard the Psychic leaders could do… strange things, it wouldn’t be impossible for Opal to have similar skills.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.” She said.

Reading minds?

“What?” He asked, almost involuntarily.

“Inheriting a position, if you are genuinely the one most capable for it.” She answered.

Oh.

Yeah. That made more sense.

It was also a deeply loaded statement, one he wasn’t actually sure was true.

“Yeah?” He asked, humouring her if nothing else.

He’d probably argued enough with her for one day, if he kept being a bastard she might genuinely fire him.

“It’s how I became leader here.”

Wait, what?

“Really?”

“This is well known information Gordie, have you really never picked up a league card?” She asked.

Again an overly sensitive question, though he didn’t think it had been intentional this time.

(It definitely had been before.)

“No, I was never really into them.” He answered.

He couldn’t stand watching people barely older than him, which became his age and even younger over the years, getting to do what he dreamed of while his own mother refused to endorse him.

“That’s a shame, they’re quite useful.”

“Bet you could make some serious money off them if you’ve been collecting them all this time.” He suggested, more so just so he had something to say, not finding them very useful at all.

Hence the whole, avoiding them like the plague thing.

“I’ve never been a serious collector, but you should consider that sometimes a league card can be your first insight into someone you’ve never fought before. Use it to try and get an edge over them.”

That sounded in line with everything he’d ever seen Opal do, when he thought about it. Bit late for him now though, wasn’t it?

“I mean, I doubt I’m going to be going around fighting gym leaders any time soon.” He said, laughing, but unable to put an impression of humour into it.

It was odd, but until now he hadn’t really gotten to impression that Opal had any presumptions over his intentions, or that she cared about his future at all, really. Except clearly she must have, because she was watching him like he was a complete idiot, scoffing before she carried on.

“So what? You’ve just… given up on ever being a gym leader, or even a league challenger?” She asked.

Something about it, like everything she asked, rubbed him the wrong way. He supposed that was the point, really.

Opal loved to corner people, make them confess things they wouldn’t under clearer circumstances.

She thrived on it, and he was sure he was practically a full-course meal for it.

“I mean, I tried it out and managed to make enemies of two gyms in the process, including one that only exists because of me in the first place!” He argued, surprised at his volume.

He immediately apologised.

What was his problem? Yelling at old women alone in the woods. A place she could very easily ditch him, he reminded himself.

“If you want to say sorry I imagine those gym trainers would appreciate it more, I really don’t care what you did.” She said, completely unfazed by his tone before.

He didn’t really have anything to say to that. Anything he _could_ say.

“But can I offer you what I imagine is going to be the best advice of your career?” She asked, watching him with that damned expression like she knew him better than he did.

She remained silent, genuinely waiting for an answer before continuing.

What career? He’d managed to destroy whatever semblance of one he’d had in basically half a year.

There was no reason to accept her ‘advice’.

He would never have use for it.

He didn’t need it.

“Fine.” He said, in spite of himself.

“Don’t apologise.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to apologise for everything. Gym leader aren’t exactly in the business of making people happy, you know.”

That certainly wasn’t going to be the slogan they ran next league challenge, was it?

“You’re aware of how awful that sounds, right?” He asked.

“Maybe. But if you lasted until the league challenge you’d have figured it out the hard way. Your job is to make other people lose. Your mother told me what happened in Circhester. You’ve lived what happens when you try to make everyone happy. You make everyone miserable, yourself most of all.”

He’d already known that Melony had told her, but hearing it so blasély from Opal herself was painful. Especially that he’d apparently failed in hiding how he felt from Melony.

“So, what then?”

Be a mean old lady like her?

“Pick a side, pick your battles. If you keep trying to please everyone, you give anyone the power to hurt you.” She said starkly.

“That’s... wrong.”

She just watched him, pityingly.

Despite himself, that hurt him too.

What was the point of it though? He’d spent so long at home trying to bring that pain back to the forefront, that embarrassment and anger from Melony, from his _mother_ choosing the gym over trusting him. At himself for disappointing her, for disappointing everyone.

How could Opal drag all of that back out of him so quickly after he’d failed for so long, only to tell him to… what?

To throw it all away?

She was _wrong_. He couldn’t.

But he didn’t know his way out of here alone, and worse was the thought of how Melony would feel if she knew he’d given up working for Opal in under a week, just because she was spooky and her questions hit too close to home.

Besides, he was still curious what she was expecting to find in these woods.

“I’ll take that on board.” He said, hoping that would satisfy her.

Though, from the looks of it, she wasn’t falling for it at all.

“I’m sure you will.” She said.

At some point without him noticing (though he was sure the timing had been fully intentional on Opal’s part) they’d made it back to the entrance, apparently ending that line of conversation for now.

Once more he just took in the sights, knowing even Opal must never tire of it. Even once you were out of the woods themselves, Ballonlea felt like a fantasy, in a way that other towns couldn’t mimic, and it wasn’t just the certainty that you were being watched by thousands of hidden eyes that did it.

Gordie couldn’t help but be reminded of when he’d released his ice Pokémon, back home, even if it was a place so unlike this one. Both places had felt… _alive_. More alive than he had felt standing in them, anyway. 

Right now he should want to break down and cry again, he knew. Opal had been doing nothing but prodding at wounds still raw, dragging all his humiliation back to the surface and then dismissing it right to his face.

Which made it ironic, that hearing someone knew everything he’d done and judged it inconsequential was almost… reassuring. Like her version of a promise that he still had a future in Galar league if that was what he wanted.

Only, if he’d be forced to trample on other’s joy to achieve it like she seemed to think, then he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted at all.

But she wasn’t wrong that he was torturing himself with it by this point, he knew on some level.

Sometimes it felt like he kept intentionally adding to his guilt, worried that he wasn’t feeling it keenly enough over the things he’d already done.

With the weight of the six Pokeballs he had left from both his teams at his side, he found himself wondering if that wasn’t one apology he could let go.

They’d be happy, back in Circhester.

As for the ones left, he’d do his best to make them happy too.

He wondered if Opal would mind if he started letting them wander alongside them during patrols, for companionship. Now wasn’t the time to ask, but he’d make sure to remember for tomorrow.

Maybe her advice was (only just) less than ruinous, he mused, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t being extremely suspicious.

Which is what he was trying to explain to his mother that night (Leaving out the more…personal conversations).

“Opal is up to something, I swear.” He said. 

“Up to what?”

“I don’t know! But she’s looking for _something_ in the woods, at first I thought she was messing with me but now I genuinely think she’s searching for a specific thing.”

“Why don’t you ask her?” She suggested.

“You think I haven’t? She won’t tell me, I think she finds it funny or something.”

“I could ask her if you want? If she is messing with you I’m sure she’ll tell me.” She offered, though from the look on her face she thought it was a little bit humours as well.

What was worse on balance, he wondered, having to rely on his mom to solve his problems once again, or having Opal hanging something he had absolutely no idea about over his head?

It wasn’t that hard of a decision he was surprised to find, nothing else could manage to get under his skin like Opal did. 

“Fine, talk to her if you want… but don’t make it obvious I’ve asked.” He said, hoping it didn’t sound whiny. 

It was a few days later (within the interim of which he’d found no answers himself) when Melony came back to him with some semblance of an explanation.

“I managed to drop it into the conversation, asking what sort of work she’d been having you do.” She began.

“Yeah?”

“She says the two of you have been patrolling the woods in search of any of those unexplained dynamaxes.”

Something in her tone made Gordie think his mother shared his doubts over Opal’s intentions. Which was weird, considering that would actually be a perfectly sensible explanation; not too far from what he’d first assumed, until she’d been so evasive about it.

“I mean, I basically flat out asked her if that was the point, and she was just really… vague about it.”

“Maybe she was just teasing you?” His mother offered.

It was possible, but Opal wasn’t a particularly playful person, at least not for its own sake. If she was messing with you, she usually had something to gain from it.

“I just feel like she has something else going on.” He said.

“She does sound a little shifty about it, she says she’s trying to be ‘proactive’ about it.” His mother said, making little air quotes with her fingers.

“You know, I’ve never known 50ft Pokémon be all that hard to find.” He pointed out.

“That’s what I was thinking too. But honestly, by this point I’ve learnt to trust Opal’s process, even when she’s scheming.”

“I’ll try, she hasn’t condemned me to be a human sacrifice for any forest creatures yet.”

“I’m sorry, What?”

“I’m kidding about the sacrifice bit.” He quickly corrected. “You weren’t obvious about me asking, were you?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

His mother clearly knew what he was trying to do, but decided to grant him mercy over it.

“I was very subtle, trust me.”

That was a ‘yes, I was extremely obvious’ then, he thought.

Nevermind, if Opal was just being vigilant in light of all the strange dynamax Pokémon, Gordie was certain he might actually be of some use to her. It would go a way towards explaining why she’d even asked him in the first place. All the other gym leaders would be preoccupied dealing with the ones in their town.

With some pride he noted that he was one of the few people who’d dealt with them fairly regularly and would be able to help her. Yet Gordie couldn’t help but feel he was being made an unwitting accomplice to something.

Either way, it made the job feel a little less like the result of pity, and right now there wasn’t much more he could want than that.

“Oh, but make sure you remember to tell her that she can’t have you the weekend after next.” His mother said.

“What’s then?” He asked.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” She said sternly.

Forgot what?

They hadn’t made plans, they’d been talking more this week sure, but they certainly hadn’t been _chatty_ , and from the way she was speaking, whatever he was meant to be accommodating for had been in the works far longer.

“I admit my… date awareness isn’t fantastic right now.” He admitted, suddenly ashamed.

He may have been putting on the performance of being competent and independent again, but there were just some parts you couldn’t fake. Even though he knew that his mother wasn’t fooled by him regardless, it still embarrassed him to slip up in front of her.

Especially considering the obvious sympathy it induced, dropping her wound up expression at his confession.

He didn’t want that. Gordie would honestly rather she be pissed off at him than look at him like that. 

“It’s the little three’s birthday that week, they’re having a party on the Saturday.” She explained, suddenly patient once more.

Shit.

How was that even bloody possible?

For the first time it viscerally hit Gordie just how long he’d been home, how much time had been… swallowed up by nothing after he lost Circhester.

Because if it was April in a couple of weeks that meant he’d been back in Galar for… what? Almost 10 months? He didn’t want to do the maths to figure out the time he’d lost between losing the gym and now.

How could so much time sound so little, when he thought of it like that?

There was a more pressing concern than the nature of time itself right now though.

Presents.

Three bloody birthdays at once, and not one he had gotten any presents for, terrible brother that he clearly was.

Still, if there was any place he’d be able to find something a little unusual that no one else would think to buy them, it would probably be the town he was currently spending most his day in.

It was almost a stroke of fortune, he thought, the first one in a long time as far as he was concerned.

Lying in bed that night he started planning for tomorrow’s tasks, now having three goals for his workday.

  1. Find something interesting to mention once he’d gotten home.
  2. Figure out what Opal was really up to.
  3. Locate the best birthday present possible.



Though he knew it was incredibly silly on his part, it felt different having things he actually wanted to do in a day again.

He only hoped it would last.


	16. Into the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day where everyone and everything seems to be throwing punches pushes him to a decision.

There were good days and bad days, Gordie was finding.

Then there were the days he was convinced that the universe itself was laughing at him.

Over the course of the past week he’d been doing practically nothing but alternating between borderline obsessing over Opal’s machinations and fretting about the triplets' birthday.

(Which he _still_ hadn’t found the right presents for.)

By that logic, it made perfect sense that Opal’s patrol had led them straight into fighting a giant birthday cake.

Worse, they weren’t even the ones who had found it, essentially making the patrol itself pointless, a frustration clearly shared by Opal herself.

Still, she’d spent the better part of seven decades fighting alongside an Alcremie, allowing her to intimately understand its weaknesses, something that made her probably the best person in Galar to face one alongside.

He reached for the Pokeballs at his side, briefly marvelling as he realised that he could feel Coalossal’s and Frosmoth’s by touch alone, burning warmth and bitter cold mingling at his fingertips.

For a moment he wasn’t sure which one he should call forward, but, honestly, Gordie was tired of the cold. 

He lobbed it without any of his usual dramatics, confident that Coalossal would do enough on that front himself anyway.

He always looked impressive as he emerged. Huge, and imposing, his usual docile nature put aside as he burned with enthusiasm, literally, the sparks coming off him leaving Gordie’s face hotter even from this distance.

No ice-type Pokémon ever had that sheer _presence_ , as far as Gordie was concerned.

Opal had brought out her Weezing, not her Alcremie as he’d perhaps expected, though it made sense if she was doing it for the type advantage.

Somehow Gordie didn’t think that was it though, it mostly seemed like she just preferred the way Weezing looked next to his Coalossal. Very… industrial, like a relic of Galar’s past.

As far as he could tell she wasn’t overly worried about the battle itself. (Which made her insistence on patrols even more confusing.)

Not that he had long to ponder on that, fighting fairy types wasn't particularly difficult but it was... _odd_. It was hard to feel like anything but a bully as you tossed poison, tar, and literal fire at a creature that looked like a bloody cake. The fact that their attacks tended to consist of rainbows, stars and similarly cutesy things didn’t help alleviate the feeling any.

Not that it mattered in the end, their attacks might not have been particularly pretty but they got the job done, Alcremie’s defences soon dropping ready for the capture. 

Though when he went to throw a pokeball, Opal grabbed his arm. He whipped round in surprise at the sudden (if not very forceful) weight of it.

“I’d like to see if this one reacts similarly to a raid Pokémon who isn’t caught.” She explained “Is that alright?”

It felt… mean, but Gordie wasn’t sure he was in much of a position to stop her. Besides, it would be interesting to see what happened; Macro Cosmos having apprehended most of the caught ones, despite the fact that his Coalossal seemed no different to any other Pokémon.

Then again, he’d never seen _this_ happen to a raid Pokémon.

They watched as the stacked tiers of Alcremie seemed to implode in red smoke, leaving behind its tiny silhouette; plummeting.

He ran towards where it must have fallen, not even checking if Opal was keeping up. (Seriously though, at her age he’d be worried about his fitness if she could, even if he was fairly certain the umbrella cane was for show.)

Thankfully, he found that it hadn’t splattered across the floor like cream (which Gordie had been somewhat afraid of, in spite of Opal’s nonchalance), but it didn’t look in terrific shape for the fall. 

He was still examining the poor thing, searching for a revive he’d apparently not remembered to pack when Opal found them.

“I think the fall knocked them out.” He explained.

Opal calmly made her way over, procuring a revive from some pocket Gordie could not have identified on her uniform if he’d tried. (Which he wasn’t going to.) Crumpling it to powder between her bony fingers, she slid open the Alcremie’s mouth and poured it down.

Gordie watched the awareness return to its eyes, suddenly deathly afraid and thrashing in place in spite of the remaining damage it had been dealt. Though in what he could only imagine was a testament to how long Opal spent in the woods around here, the creature calmed at the sight of her. Retreating back into the trees as Opal shooed them lightly.

“Gordie, why don’t you go back into the stadium and keep an eye on my trainers for me? I’ll wait for the search party.” She suggested.

Which was wildly out of character, considering she literally never kept an eye on her trainers.

More likely she was doing it to keep him out of trouble. No doubt when Macro Cosmos did arrive they would be… less than happy that Opal had let the Pokémon get away. He worried that it would be obvious that she had actively healed it to enable that.

Really, he didn’t want to leave her alone with them; but she could take care of herself, he knew, and it wasn’t like her suggestion couldn’t become an order if she wanted it to.

So he left, trying to peek behind him to see how many people were arriving the entire way back.

Inside the gym he distracted himself, or more accurately, was distracted by the sudden bombardment of questions from the trainers about what had happened.

No one had really taken any notice of his presence since he’d come here, which was a welcome relief when he thought about all the scrutiny he’d constantly been under in Circhester. He hoped that once they’d calmed down they would let him fade back into the background again.

Opal made her way in half an hour later, looking sufficiently fed up, though she put on a smile for her trainers’ sakes.

Macro Cosmos must have tried to throw the book at her then. 

It was arrogant of them considering she’d been a staple in the league far longer than they had. Even if her methods were unconventional, Gordie was willing to trust that she knew what she was doing when it came to the Pokémon here.

“I have to say Gordie, you were very impressive in that battle.” 

“Come on, you’ve seen me train before.” He replied, bizarrely embarrassed at the genuine praise.

How often was it that Opal said nice things without having an ulterior motive?

Granted, many of the battles she’d have seen would have been ice battles against Melony, which rarely brought out the best in him. But this one hadn’t been particularly strenuous, and as far as he could tell he hadn’t pulled off anything particularly impressive.

Still… the compliment made a nice change of pace.

“Mhm, but when you switched discipline I’ll admit I expected something a little… coarser from your battle style.” She admitted.

“My Pokémon are only the _most refined_ of gentlemen.” He claimed with faux offense, though it _was_ a fact. “No, the truth is I met some really talented rock trainers, I’m mostly just recycling stuff.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She insisted.

It was a strange thing to hear, not least of all since his entire life he’d been accused of the opposite.

His… competitive approach to battling had been a constant in his life, and his confidence he would win had been his most important companion. The one thing that gave him the strength to fight in the first place.

Had he lost that faith in his abilities somewhere down the road?

The confusion of it all must have left him soft-headed, unable to sense the trail; Opal leading him into a trap. In his current state though, he hadn’t found it even remotely strange that she’d pulled him aside for a ‘break’, no doubt stressed herself from the run in with the Chairman’s search committee, or whatever their job was. 

Now, had Gordie known that the giant cake was going to be the easiest part of his day, it is extremely likely he would’ve just stayed in bed that morning.

However, in his blissful ignorance he was led straight from the frying pan into the fire.

Though a fire might be useful right now to throw these damned cards into, he mused.

“Well, when you said that you’ve never collected them I just had to dig out some of my old ones to show you.” She explained.

“Thanks, that’s really kind of you.” He said, barely trying to hide that he was lying through his teeth.

“I have most of the current gym leaders here too. I don’t have the dark-type one, but you probably wouldn’t have ever met him anyway.” She said.

That was… intriguing, but he didn’t want to give her the false hope that he had any intention of returning to the league by asking what she meant.

“My almost co-workers, then?” He said with false levity.

Really the last thing he needed was to see this right now.

But when had that ever mattered? 

“So that’s the grass type leader? He’s very…robust looking.” He tried, when Opal pulled out the first of the league cards.

What Gordie of course meant was, he was fucking built. Ridiculously muscular in a way that probably made every single guy around him feel a _little_ insecure. Which was great, considering that it didn’t take Gordie all that much to feel that way in the first place. Suddenly, he was very grateful they’d never had to walk down a stadium pitch together.

“Milo is the most approachable of all the major league leaders, I’d say. He’s soft-hearted.” Opal said.

That boded just fantastically. Sure, the guy had a babyface, but if this was the friendliest, least intimidating leader, then Gordie honestly didn’t want to see the rest.

Not that Opal cared. 

“This is Nessa, the current water leader. You might recognise her, actually.”

“Why? Did she re-take my mum’s gym challenge loads?” He asked, not recognising her from the photo alone. The thing did look heavily airbrushed though, which may have contributed.

Opal just laughed.

“I meant in the normal social sense.” She explained. “She’s a model, she’s plastered everywhere in Galar and I’m fairly certain she works abroad too.”

“I don’t really pay attention to stuff like that.” He admitted. “Is it edited? The photo?”

Where had that come from? It sounded so much ruder than it had in his head.

Opal seemed just as confused.

“I can’t see anything obvious, but if you remember her looking different when she came to Circhester for the league challenge, she’s since starting styling her hair and eyes to fit her gym theme.” She offered.

Right. He didn’t remember her at all, though he could understand Opal’s mix-up.

His reasoning definitely made less sense, and was way more petty.

It just seemed almost unfair, to be honest.

Gordie couldn’t imagine waking up first thing in the morning and looking like… that. (Beyond even the prosaic sense of them being literal physical opposites.) It was more that, even when he was more on top of his skincare and haircare regimes than he currently was, the efforts were to look _presentable_. Not stunning.

Why were they looking at these again? League cards always used to make him feel jealous of people living his dream and now they were just proving to him that he would have never managed to fit in amongst his would-have-been co-workers.

Seriously, two in and they’d already had a bodybuilder and a supermodel. Frankly, it would have been embarrassing for him when the opening ceremony had come around.

But Opal seemed genuinely enthusiastic, showing him through ex-leaders, and league challengers who’d managed to shake the contest to its core when they took part.

It was nice, and he wanted to be supportive back. Aside from the occasional… quiz of sort, Opal hadn’t been that bad. Besides, he still appreciated being giving the job in the first place.

While she was explaining why the ex-champion Mustard was in her words ‘an intolerable reprobate’, Gordie caught sight of the closest thing he’d seen to a familiar face among the pile. 

“Wait! That one, I recognise him. He’s um… Ray something?”

“Raihan.” Opal corrected.

“Yes! That’s it. The lanky dragon guy, right?”

Someone who actually _had_ re-taken his mother’s gym challenge loads. Over several years. Plus all the times he’d literally marched into Circhester Stadium for a re-match after that. 

Funny guy, Gordie mused.

“Dragon type gym leader now, actually.” Opal said.

“You’re kidding. _He’s_ a gym leader?”

“The highest ranked in Galar. You seem surprised.”

“No! It’s just… Arceus, I remember mum _utterly_ destroying him. Quite a few times, actually. It doesn’t even feel like it was that long ago.” 

“It wasn’t.” Opal laughed. “He’s still waiting for the day he can break her winning streak.”

Poor Bloke. Gordie could remember those fights well, Raihan having a sort of… dramatic flair that made them hard to forget (Not that he was one to judge on that front). Secretly, a part of Gordie had always hoped for Raihan to win, as if it would enable him to overcome his mother too.

It was pathetic, he knew. Acting like someone else’s losses to Melony made him any less of a loser, especially when Raihan probably didn’t remember Gordie’s existence and unlike Gordie, had managed to apparently become extremely successful in spite of it. 

At least that made one of them.

He tried to laugh at Opal’s comment, to spare himself to need to respond.

Because League cards were every bit as unenjoyable as he remembered, Opal for once being way off the mark. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what she was up to; showing him through all the gym leaders his age right after showering praise over his own battle techniques? She wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

But why was it making him feel like shit?

Maybe he was jealous, it made sense after being forced to look at people his age, some younger even, who’d managed to make something of their lives.

On the glossy paper they all seemed so bloody perfect. Perfect and Polished and… marketable in a way that Gordie would never be. Could never know _how_ to be.

How had Melony ever believed he could enjoy _that_?

How had he deluded himself into thinking he’d have done anything but fail?

He couldn’t even convince his own trainers to put their faith in him; quitting before he’d subjected himself to the public had been the only sensible choice he’d made since coming home. What little of others’ opinion on him he’d read since the Coalossal incident was enough.

Gordie knew how they saw him. The little jokes and jibes he’d been subjected to.

Why the fuck would he want more of that?

It hadn’t occurred to him that Opal would be doing this intentionally, he realised while desperately searching for a way out. She hadn’t seemed to catch on about how he actually felt towards the cards the other day, and even if she had why would she feel the need to openly taunt him?

Opal was harsh sometimes, but she wasn’t cruel.

Only, as she pulled the next card out, he was starting to re-consider that.

“Oh, I didn’t realise I still had this one.” She said, with the tone of someone who really didn’t care if their lie was believed or not.

He hadn’t wandered why she was talking like that until he saw it.

Instantly he knew.

Gordie didn’t have a league card, thank Arceus. There would be no reminder of his failed tenure as an ice leader like he’d feared, and he’d never been a league challenger, ensuring a life free of collections of cardboard showing him progressing through the awkward parts of puberty.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on any league cards. 

In fact, he may as well have been on this one twice considering that his mother with a bob was practically indistinguishable from him, neck upwards at least. The actual Gordie in the photo was hiding, but not nearly as well as he’d thought at the time. 

He remembered when the photo was taken, the photographer had seen Gordie in the matching uniform to his mother and thought it would make for a nice personal touch.

Back then he’d been so excited for the opportunity, but he hadn’t felt ready, not really. He was only what? Seven? Eight? But he’d already decided that his first proper league card was going to be when he did the gym challenge.

So he’d hidden behind his mother’s leg hoping it wouldn’t count. But the little, guilty smile on the photo gave him away. He’d been over the moon to have the chance to get one made with his mother, not yet at the point where training with her brought nothing but that seething resentment he’d grow to associate with.

Gordie felt his eyes stinging, because he could see it even then; clear as day in the nervous smile of the child he barely recognised as himself. 

That hope and fear that had always been the same thing for him. 

He wished he could warn himself back then, warn him that the fear, that doubt, would never go away; that it would permeate every aspect of what he did, that he still hadn’t figured out how to banish it. 

That nothing would ever be enough. 

Part of him wanted to reach out and tear the card to bits, but what would that really fix? Mostly it would just confirm to Opal whatever she’d wanted to find out from this little game, and right now that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had to leave.

“Can I set off early today? There shouldn’t be any more trouble after earlier and, to be honest, I still need to find a present for the triplets.” He explained.

Mostly he just needed to be away from here, now. He didn’t care if she could tell how much it bothered him. It _did_ bother him!

Maybe she’d actually drop whatever mind games she was playing if she could see he was genuinely upset.

Of course, when had Opal ever let anyone off easy?

“Still? You’ve been searching all week.” She replied.

“I know, I know. But I haven’t found the right thing yet, I’m looking for something special.”

“They’re turning six. _Whatever_ you get them, by the time they’re seven it will be broken and forgotten.”

“I want to get them something special precisely so that doesn’t happen!” He argued.

“They’re children, they won’t care. What did you get for your sixth birthday?”

Crap. He hated when she was right.

“Fine, I don’t remember. But we didn’t have much money back then anyway.”

“Six years olds don’t have any concept of money Gordie! You’re overthinking this.”

“Maybe I am!” He admitted. “But I’ve never bought them a birthday present in their life, I want to make this one count.”

He’d sort of blown it, the Pokémon he’d brought home from Hoenn would have been literally the perfect present. But needs must, and sometimes grieving children need a distraction.

It would make everything after seem anti-climactic though, he knew.

“So this is about you then?” Opal asked.

“No! It’s about showing them I care. They’ve had a tough year, I want them to have a nice birthday.”

They’d been a lifeline to him since he’d come home, even more so after everything had gone to shit at Circhester. 

Gordie just wanted to be a brother who would actually deserve it, feeling less like it by the day, lately.

Why did Opal feel the need to constantly prod at him like this? What was she hoping to find?

He was completely aware that he was messed up in how he thought about things. But it was fine. He could deal with it.

“That’s fine then. You did very well today.” She finally acquiesced.

Somehow he didn’t think she was talking about the battle though.

It all left him feeling off-kilter, and even though he knew the deadline was readily approaching, he couldn’t bear looking for presents today, heading home on an earlier train instead.

Honestly though, it was the next part of the day that really pushed everything into ‘subject of a universal joke’.

Sort of like falling from the fire into _another_ fire.

Only this fire guilted you over the fact you were a terrible son and brother.

Really he shouldn’t have even tried to talk to any other Opals today.

Sure, sometimes it felt like the gym leader she’d been named after only spoke to him to torture him. But at least she, well, _spoke_ to him!

His half-sister had been giving him a silent treatment that could give their mother a run for her money, and he was starting to think he should have let her carry on doing so.

Because clearly, once she’d started talking they’d opened the floodgates, and now she couldn’t stop.

He’d only asked if the triplets had mentioned anything they wanted for their birthday, how had it gotten to this point?

“You’re spending too much time with them.” She accused.

Did she believe he was going to somehow corrupt them? Make it so they turned out fuckups like him?

He was spending less time with them since he’d started working in Ballonlea, than he had since he’d come home!

How was he supposed to win here?

“Who is gonna look after them? Mum is super busy.” He pointed out.

“Whose fault it is that?” She asked.

Ordinarily he’d like to think he wouldn’t let a pre-teen get under his skin like this, but this had already been a very, very bad day in terms of… well, everything.

“You can try to blame me if you want, but she’s choosing to stay there too!”

In that place that caused them nothing but pain.

“You promised that you were coming back to help.” Opal said, finally getting to the real issue.

That was true, he could admit, but how could she not see that he’d genuinely been putting everything he had into doing so? Let it grind him down until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Believe me Opal, I know it’s not much but this is honestly me trying.”

“You’ve only made everything worse!”

“I know! But I never wanted it to be like this, I honestly tried, I just…”

What?

Secretly helped form another gym he’d obviously be more invested in?

Got caught?

Blew his gasket when Melony came and tried to control everything once he’d already sorted it?

“I just wasn’t cut out for it.” He decided on.

“I don’t care, you shouldn’t have made mum cry!” She argued.

What?

His mother had cried in front of Opal?

No, it wasn’t possible. She must have overheard her from her room. _Nothing_ made Melony openly cry in front of her children.

Still, the gravity of that, of reducing his mother to tears, left Gordie unable to find words that could refute anything she was saying.

Somewhere down the road he’d gone being the one who found her, crying alone in that small room in that small flat, to the one who drove her to it; in a big, empty house where you could exist together without living together.

“I’m sor-” He tried. 

“No, you’re not! Because you won’t leave, and you’re making it worse!”

Now, that one genuinely wasn’t on him.

“She told me to stay! She’s the one who will barely talk to me, how it that my fault?”

Apparently Opal didn’t see it that way.

“Because you made her cry, and now you just stick around spending every day pretending you’re dad!” She yelled. 

She may as well have struck him then, for the end point they’d reached regardless.

It wasn’t even the implications of him replacing his mother’s husband in their lives (frankly he wasn’t going near _those_ with a barge pole).

It was the realisation. Before, he’d felt embarrassingly maternal taking care of all the meals and the house, but of course that’s never how their home had been run.

Instead he’d spent months doing _that_ , the son who had endlessly disappointed her pathetically pantomiming the man she’d lost. The one she could have had more time with had Gordie managed to lead the gym for her the first time she’d asked.

Arceus, even now he hadn’t been able to.

Opal seemed to realise that she’d said something very… heavy. Watching him with the same sort of shocked blankness he was feeling. He couldn’t even be angry anymore, she looked so small standing there. So young but still forced to put up with him after losing her father.

He’d be angry too.

What did he look like to her? Her awful half-brother who had always resented her family, coming back and stealing her mother’s time, stealing her siblings attention.

Desperately, he wished he had the words to make this better.

They didn’t come.

He couldn’t handle this right now. How was it fair to be confronted by the fact you were a failure among your would-be peers, and just as much of a let-down to you family in the same day? Gordie was struggling to get through even his good days right now. 

Wouldn’t it just be better if he finally left and stopped reminding them of everything?

With that in mind he made his way back to his room leaving Opal in his wake.

His legs felt numb as he made his way over to the wardrobe, ready to grab whatever clothes he could with trembling hands and get far, far away from all this.

_Don’t._

He heard it in his mother’s voice, from that day.

She’d _asked_ him to stay.

He was wanted here, in some sense, he had to be. If she’d wanted him gone, she wouldn’t have even had to say the words, her silence would have been enough.

He just needed to understand why.

If she would just tell him what she wanted, he could try, and then maybe he could stop upsetting her, stop upsetting Opal.

It was worth staying for the possibility, for now at least.

Besides if he left today, it would be the worst birthday present possible for the triplets.

He could do this. Other Opal always managed to get him in a mood somewhere between reflective and argumentative.

Which ironically, was probably a good ways towards what he needed right now.

Part of him wondered if maybe she’d just been trying to goad him into confronting his mother the entire time. It wasn’t impossible with the so-called ‘Wizard’.

The whole situation was an odd reversal, really. This time he was the one who had gotten home early, ready for the ambush.

Opal hadn’t told him, but he vaguely recalled his mother mentioning she was taking the little three to the hairdressers. Was a pre-birthday haircut a thing? Was it one of those weird suburban habits she’d managed to adopt when it came to her other kids?

He was trying not to let those thoughts distract him, rehearsing his arguments for when she got home.

Not that it really mattered when they did.

She’d heard about the Gigantamax Alcremie, questioning him on all the details. Checking in that he was okay.

But he wasn’t okay, how could either of them be okay with this hanging over them?

“Why did you ask me to stay?” He finally asked, aware that it was an unfair swerve in topic.

Immediately she knew what he meant though, tensing, expression strained. She must have been expecting the question for a while.

Part of him was afraid she’d just walk off, then and there. 

“Because I don’t want you to leave. I love you.” She finally said. 

Obviously. He loved her too, but sometimes that wasn’t enough. If they were driving each other to tears, to hopelessness, then clearly it wasn’t.

“Then we need to talk! We need to sort this out.” He tried. “For the others too.”

It wasn’t right of them to put the others through this, Opal was clearly very aware of the mood over the house, and even if the others weren’t, they wouldn’t remain ignorant to it forever.

He was hopeful she’d see it the same way.

Apparently though, it was a no-go

“Gordie I’m sorry, but I really can’t get into this right now.”

His mother was averting her eyes from him, her arms out forming a sort of shield, almost like a physical barrier that she believed could keep this conversation of bay.

Gordie wasn’t convinced that not acknowledging the problem would fix anything, in fact he was certain of the opposite.

It was obviously going to hurt talking about… everything; but it was hardly as if they weren’t already hurting.

“We’re only making each other miserable the more we try to avoid it!” He argued.

“Please Gordie. I need time to get everything sorted out in my head. I’m really busy right now, can we save this until after the party?” She pleaded.

In spite of his resolve, it worked.

Of course she was busy, she was cleaning up all his messes in Circhester and still wasn’t letting him help with the school run, and now he was commuting all the way to Ballonlea anyway.

He knew this was his fault, he couldn’t _not_ give her the time, even if he felt like they were just delaying the inevitable. 

“After the party.” He affirmed.

“I promise we can talk about it then.”

Maybe all the mind games had paid off. Because he _knew_ , he could see the truth on her face.

She was asking for until then, because she wanted the triplets to have one nice birthday.

Which meant she thought he’d leave once they’d had the talk.

Why?

It was like whiplash. He was too drained to argue, all of his courage he’d found gone; whatever had enabled him to confront his mother dissipated in the face of whatever she was so scared to say to him.

So they parted ways again, just another day of stilted silences and avoidance. 

Arceus, he was tired.

He was lay in bed, trying in vain to slip into sleep and escape everything that today had dumped on him when it happened.

Usually he couldn’t do anything when he felt like this.

Which is why his sudden surge of inspiration had him pushing the covers off, urgently needing to do… something, to make sure he wouldn’t forget.

He fumbled for his phone in the dark, quickly blinking off the glare of light signifying he’d found the lock button. Opening up his notes to his pathetically empty ‘present ideas’ page, he typed in his epiphany.

Somehow he felt better for finally having something filling that empty space.

In fact, feeling a smile tug at his lips despite himself, he thought that it may have almost made today worth it. 

If nothing else it would make tomorrow easier, he hoped.

As long as Opal would be willing to part with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty slow in its coming together, and was very differently to what I'd intended. Originally it was going to be a lot more light-hearted and hopeful throughout, but apparently that just wasn't happening. 
> 
> Hopefully, the little flash of optimism at the end keeps it from being completely angsty though.


	17. Castles

For the first time in a long time, Gordie had managed almost a week of good days. Days with purpose.

Which made it very ironic that in the face of all his efforts and genuine enthusiasm about their upcoming birthday, he was struggling again on the day of the actual party.

He’d woken up feeling alright, but something about strewing decorations all over the place before the little ones got out of bed themselves was making him feel a strange sort of melancholy, leaving him off-balance.

Maybe it was the thought of how many parties like this he’d missed before, for them and for Opal.

Speaking of which.. his mood could be due to being alone with her and his mother right now, not yet having managed to rid everyone of the tension that had been hanging over the house.

Or perhaps it was the occasional (pointless) twinge of jealousy that he’d never had a birthday party himself as a child, though he knew that was hardly his family’s fault. Even when his mother would have been financially able to throw one, he’d never exactly been the most sociable of kids.

Whatever the reason, today wasn’t about him; he needed to try and be more upbeat by the time the others woke up.

But it wasn’t as if he could just stop thinking full stop.

He felt there was something… not quite pretentious, but very _suburban_ about hosting a kids birthday party at your own home, implicitly understood by all the adults attending that they had been given free rein to judge your house and garden. 

It wasn’t like his mother was superficial, but he knew that she shared his… insecure tendencies (by which he of course meant episodes verging on full-blown neurosis that neither acknowledged aloud).

Which was probably why they’d spent the past few days obsessively cleaning, including the spots Gordie could guarantee no one would ever see; it was literally _their_ house and he was still convinced he was seeing some of them for the first time, while their guests would probably only see things directly between the garden and the toilet.

She was being particular about the decorations too, making sure they were within the boundaries of being celebratory while still being tasteful, as if they weren’t for six-year olds who couldn’t care less.

By the time they’d finished (having done a pretty good job on the walls considering that he was the only person here much above 5ft) a van had pulled up outside their house.

A van carrying the part that his mother had failed to mention, in what he assumed was deliberate silence on her part.

The fucking bouncy castle. He’d managed to miss that in the scheme shed hadn’t he?

Really, he should have expected something like this; his siblings had loads of friends (either that or a triplet birthday was considered a regional holiday). What exactly had he imagined that many kids would do in their garden?

“You didn’t mention _that_.” He told his mother, indicating the slowly inflating monstrosity.

“I didn’t want to put any temptation out there.”

He wasn’t sure that bouncy castles were his idea of temptation. Had he ever tried one?

“Seriously? How old do you think I am?” He asked.

She just shot him an unconvinced look, apparently unwilling to dignify his question with a response. Whether that was on account of the whole ‘giving birth to him’ thing, or a lack of belief in his ability to avoid the bouncy castle, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m hurt, mother.” He said dramatically. “I’m gonna be so responsible today. I’ll be a very mature adult.”

“Oh, will you?”

“I’m gonna teach the triplets about taxes for their present.” He joked, quickly picking the closest thing to a grown-up idea he could think of. 

“I can see why that’s had you in such a good mood all week.” She replied, words dripping with sarcasm.

He didn’t miss the sincere question underneath though, she _was_ genuinely curious what had been up with him. 

“Actually. I should warn you in advance that I brought some mushrooms from Ballonlea back for them. But I have been assured that the fungi there aren’t poisonous, and that they’re probably not… er, _funny ones_ either.”

“Probably not?” His mother asked sternly.

“Opal asked if I’d eaten some off the floor, when asking about my ‘unusual demeanour.’” He quoted. “But she promised she was joking, so if they are it’s on her not me.”

He was almost certain by this point that Opal preferred his company when he wasn’t feeling top-notch, finding him too energetic the rest of the time.

“They’re not meant to be eating them anyway.” His mother pointed out.

Oops. 

“Well, actually I brought some more back for that exact purpose.”

“I didn’t know you liked mushrooms.”

“Honestly, I’m not fussy. But I had an idea I wanted to test out and they just seemed… the least messy option.”

She seemed annoyed that he was springing this on her when they’d already prepared everything.

“Not today or anything though.” He rushed to elaborate, knowing she wouldn’t like it whenever it occurred.

“What idea is this?” His mother asked worriedly, catching onto his tone.

Which was correct of her, to be fair.

“Consider this… Can you barbecue things on a Coalossal?” He asked.

She actually groaned unashamedly at his proposal. 

“You’re not selling me on this ‘mature adult’ thing.”

He laughed, but the joke was on her; Gordie had been getting more extreme reactions from her all week, not willing to be satisfied by curt small talk anymore. (Though he wasn’t kidding about his Coalossal barbecue idea, even if grilling meat on a living creature seemed immoral, limiting his options.)

Sometimes it felt like they were having normal conversations again, as if whatever revelation she believed was coming after the party (and did that mean tonight or tomorrow?) wasn’t a shadow looming over their relationship.

Of course, whatever she thought, Gordie knew he wasn’t going to let it be, his resolve to really fix things stronger than it had been in years.

“So your special surprise present was funky mushrooms?” She asked. 

“I told you they’re not funky ones!” He argued. “And… no. To be honest, Opal made me realise that they won’t really care that much about what the presents are. At their age kids prefer opening present to actually having them. So I bought a few little things.”

“Right then.” His mother replied, taken aback.

Not that he blamed her, it was a sharp turn from all his worrying about it before.

But that had never really been about them, had it?

Because, even if it hurt to acknowledge it, he had wanted to blow them away to appease his own sense of guilt. It was hard to celebrate their birthday without thinking about the fact of their birth at all, a time in his life he generally preferred to forget.

It didn’t matter to them though, they didn’t know how much Gordie used to resent them, had felt from the moment they were born. Before that even. 

Grand gestures would be pointless, he knew, it was surely more important to prove that he was going to carry on trying, long after today.

Loving them had been easy since he’d come back, they hadn’t exactly given him much choice in the matter. Most the time, it felt like they were the only people who genuinely wanted nothing from him, except for his presence itself.

Which meant he had to show Opal and his mother that he intended to do the brother thing properly this time, something he hoped his presents managed to communicate.

If not, he still had the pièce de résistance he’d gotten from the other Opal a few days ago.

With that in mind, his mood had taken a turn for the better by the time they’d gotten up, unable to stay down in the face of their infectious excitement. The world itself seemed to agree, being an incredibly mild day by the standards of a typical Circhester April, which was convenient considering the bloody bouncy castle his mother had schemed over.

They were gonna open their presents now though, his mother having decided that making a bunch of other children watch them do it would be tacky. (Not to mention how insufferable the three of them would be about it until then.)

Cards were first; a myriad of them from Mom, Opal, and him, followed by from their grandparents and a bunch of other relatives he was certain none of them had ever met.

Then of course, presents.

Honestly, most of his when it came down to it were basically tat, in large part edible, though their faces were lighting up every time they ripped open the next one, so he supposed he’d done something right. The mushrooms especially fascinated them, which was typical of children really, considering they’d been the easiest to get.

The league cards were the last of his presents that they opened, though they seemed confused what they were meant to do with them.

“These are proper collectable ones.” He explained. “They get printed every year and all the best trainers and gym challengers in the region get them. I was thinking that from this year we could start collecting some and I could take you to guys the stadium to watch mum thrash them all when the league challenge starts.”

 _That_ had them excited. Everyone in the room giggling at his confidence that she’d destroy anyone who dared challenge her. Gordie imagined that they rarely got to see mom battle in person considering they didn’t train there like he had.

The significance of the gesture wasn’t lost on his mother either, considering his long-standing hatred of the league challenge itself and their own struggles over Circhester.

He’d meant every word of it though.

None of them could change what had happened, and he honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted from his future, or even how long his mother would be satisfied staying there. But they didn’t need to know all that stuff to try and make things work in the meantime, did they?

This was a promise to his mother, a promise that he was staying, that he wasn’t going to resent her for carrying on Circhester when he couldn’t, that he wouldn’t resent the things he’d never gotten to do.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, but he believed that he owed it to her, and to his siblings too.

Of course, he was very quickly overshadowed once they went into the garden to unveil their presents from Melony. Which made sense, he couldn’t exactly compete with bikes and a bouncy castle, which were both impressive in their own right.

Six-year-olds weren’t exactly known for being ‘the thought counts’ types of people.

He didn’t mind, they were almost unbearably sweet to watch, young kids seemingly enjoying birthdays so much because they enjoyed every day they were alive, really.

Arceus he envied them for that, though just being around them was making him enjoy his days better too.

When the other children turned up however, things started quickly spiralling.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like children, they were just… lively in large quantities.

The main places he’d been visiting since he’d stopped avoiding civilisation in general were Ballonlea stadium and the woods near that area, neither of which were exactly buzzing metropolitan hubs.

It was just a bit overwhelming.

There was the constant risk that if you weren’t looking at your own shins a kid was gonna crash straight into them, too distracted by bright colours and whatever else to notice a person several feet taller than them.

Of course that was harmless really, the parents were the bigger problem.

Gordie was certain that most of these people were just here to get a glimpse into his mother’s private life, the obvious perk of having children in the same class as a (sort of) celebrity’s kids. 

Worse, he couldn’t find his mother anywhere; meaning there was literally no adults he knew, leaving him to stand around uncomfortably, avoiding conversations.

Sitting down to escape it had only brought him in the reach of a different family member, one who was psyched up by his party and currently attempting to leap onto Gordie’s back. 

“There is a bouncy castle right there! How is it more fun to break my spine?” He asked Platty, who was now doing what Gordie could only assume was an impression of a Grookey, climbing over his shoulder blades.

“You gotta come on too!”

“I’m too big.” He said. “It’ll pop.”

Plus, it would prove his mother right, something he wasn’t willing to do. (This early into the party anyway.)

“It won’t. It’s big enough.” Platty argued, utterly convinced of his own position.

Somehow Gordie couldn’t imagine that the engineering was on Platty’s side with this though.

“Please.” He begged, pouting far too miserably for his birthday.

Really, what was Gordie meant to do but crumple in the face of it?

It was a children’s bouncy castle, but he supposed it was a _large_ children’s bouncy castle (and arguably, that made all the difference).

“Maybe once the adults are gone later.” He whispered conspiratorially.

At Platty’s face he knew it was worth the misguided promise, even one that was very obviously going to backfire.

In the meantime though… he could definitely distract his brother for a while.

“C’mon I’ve got a good idea.” Gordie beckoned him, making him follow to where it was set up.

Some of the people around them were taking notice, whether at one of the birthday boys or at the strange adult accompanying him, he wouldn’t want to guess.

“Wanna see if we can make you fly?” He asked.

Of course he wasn’t really gonna wait for an answer.

Scooping Platty into arms, (met with squeals for his effort) he started lightly swinging his weight, as if readying his throw. It was mostly just to build the anticipation; the chucking part wouldn’t be hard, his brother was barely heavier than Shuckle.

“Incoming!” Gordie yelled as he threw him, warning the other children of the danger.

Definitely wouldn’t be his fault now if Platty landed on one of them, he reasoned.

A shrill shriek informed him that there had in fact been very real danger. He knew that sound, it was the scream of a child who was going to spend the next hour making him repeat the exact same thing.

Right on cue Platty shot up from where he’d landed, hair in disarray to the point where it was starting to resemble Gordie’s _after_ styling it, and hurried back over, carelessly pushing his way out past the other children. 

_Little shit_ , he thought fondly; thar closely followed by, ‘his mother must have been right’, because that looked bloody fun.

“Again!” Platty yelled, barely able to get the words out among the flurry of giggles.

Unfortunately, the first time had drawn the attention (and judgement) of a lot of the parents around them, sudden scrutiny making him freeze up. Social niceties were gonna stop them from confronting him about what he’d just done, he could tell, but he doubted that grace period was gonna extend to a second attempt.

That didn’t stop Platty watching him expectantly, completely oblivious to the scene around them.

“What do you mean again? It’s _my_ turn now, you’ve gotta chuck me.” Gordie goaded instead, not wanting to just blow him off outright. 

To his immense credit, Platty was actually willing to give it a try, wrapping his arms around Gordie’s calves and attempting to lift someone at least quadruple his own weight, in spite of how beyond pointless it would obviously be.

Turning six had apparently granted him a reservoir of hubris; now convinced he could do anything. It wasn’t even as if the kid had been particularly lacking in confidence before.

Gordie desperately hoped the world would never take that from his brother.

It may have been time for him to put a damper on this particular effort however.

“Maybe we should save picking me up until next birthday?” He suggested. “I’m sure you’ll be strong enough then.”

It was a blatant lie, but Platty seemed more offended by the implication that he wasn’t strong enough _now_ ; quickly dropping back down and trying again with greater effort.

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, quickly bristling as some of the people around them joined in. Something about the sound made his skin crawl, though he forced himself to remember where they were. No one was laughing at him, he logically understood, they were laughing _with_ him at his endearing little brother.

Still, he wished they weren’t here to watch. There was something novel and _precious_ about being able to celebrate with his family like this. It felt intimate, too special to be intruded upon by strangers.

Something only confirmed when a couple of women approached him once Platty left again, apparently deciding that the little performance proved he was actually invited here, and safe to talk to.

(The opposite of course being a very real danger at children’s birthday parties, he thought sardonically.)

The one was a brunette, definitely younger than his mother, though he wouldn’t be able to guess either way with her blonde companion. It was strange, to consider that his mom must have gone from always being the youngest parent on the playground to being one of the older ones.

“He is such a sweet kid!” The blonde cooed, gesturing to Platty, on the bouncy castle once more.

“Yeah, he is.” Gordie replied, surprised to hear how obviously fond it came out.

It was pathetically soppy, but it had apparently gotten both of the women smiling too.

“I’m Sarah, Dillan’s mum.” The blonde introduced herself, as if her child’s name was going to mean literally anything to him.

The brunette, Jess did pretty much the same thing.

Were suburban moms all given the same programming?

“Gordie.” He said, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets to resist awkwardly offering a handshake.

“I don’t know how that boy has the energy, he’s like it every single day like it on the playground after school.” Sarah said, though Gordie didn’t think she meant it as a criticism.

Honestly, it didn’t shock him that Platty was always that excitable, he seemed to be able to find joy in anything in life.

It made Gordie feel incredibly old however, certain that he had been the same once too.

“Was he trying to throw you into the castle just then?” Jess asked, clearly amused.

“Unfortunately yes.” Gordie said, with a put-on grave tone. “I _may_ have convinced him that it was a good idea. But still, you’ve got to admire his bravery.” He joked, trying to smile casually about it all.

Because this was part of being sociable right? Not being afraid to take yourself a little less than seriously around strangers.

It was hard though, obviously not being ‘one of the kids’, but also being clearly distinct from the other adults here, younger by years and separated by life experience. He didn’t feel like he could possibly have any common ground to talk about.

Though, he wasn’t going to let that stop him today. 

So they talked about simple things, him mostly listening as they spoke about their kids, though occasionally he piped up with an anecdote about the triplets.

It was quite nice actually, not having exactly indulged in extensive socialisation recently. (Ever.)

Well it was nice until they bloody ruined it.

“Your sister is such a strong woman, I can’t imagine what she’s gone through this year.” Sarah said, sounding so sincere that he knew she must have been putting it on.

Initially he was confused, thinking sarcastically that he wouldn’t really class Pearl as a ‘woman’ on account of the fact she was six, but knowing it wouldn’t make sense for her to know Opal and be referring to her.

Those blissful seconds of ignorance were shattered once he realised she meant Melony.

Of course she bloody did.

Right. Here came the awkward part.

“Oh, actually Melony is my mum.” He explained, trying to seem friendly about it. 

There was a look from them then that Gordie instantly recognised, though it had been years since he’d last seen it properly.

A sort of calculating glance, of someone trying to figure out if Gordie was younger than they had presumed, Melony older, or neither, at which point their judgment became clear. For these pair, they looked… disappointed, and embarrassed though he couldn’t imagine why.

It didn’t matter, he’d forgotten how much he despised all variations of that look. They’d been spoiled by the years they’d trained in Circhester, where everyone knew who they were and the actual relation between them already.

Apparently he’d taken it for granted that people who didn’t follow the league would know it too, because that was only the first time during the party someone mistook him for Melony’s brother, something that turned out to get old _very_ fast as he braved talking to more of the parents there.

Though as soon as someone asked if he was Melony’s ‘partner’ instead, he realised it could have been far worse. (He also realised that his mom had been very kind in not subjecting him to the school run when he’d offered.)

To be honest… that was a new one altogether. When he’d been younger he’d gotten accustomed to people assuming Melony was his teen sister, continuing well into her 20s, and hadn’t really understood his mother’s visceral shame over the misunderstandings, mostly learning to dislike it from example.

He reckoned he got the feeling a little more personally now, because at least no one had assumed back then that he was her _fucking boyfriend_.

Like, if the obvious resemblance and the age gap weren’t enough to dissuade someone from making ridiculous assumptions, surely the fact that she’d been widowed under a year ago should have kept them at bay. 

No, the mix-up wasn’t hitting closer to home because of what little Opal had said about him taking her dad’s place. That would be absolutely _ridiculous_.

It wasn’t as if he’d struggled to find his place in his family for years, apparently made more complicated now by the fact that people clearly couldn’t imagine him as Melony’s child seeing as he was well… not a child anymore.

More than ready for an escape, Gordie made his way inside the house, intending to seclude away in his bedroom and text his mother to tell him whenever he should come back out for the triplets to blow out their birthday candles.

Only he spotted her on his way up instead, apparently doing a little bit of hiding of her own, sat in the kitchen; watching the garden blankly through the window.

“Well, you look about as tired as I feel.” He joked from the door, having walked over a board he’d knew was creaky in the hopes he wouldn’t surprise her.

“You seemed pretty lively out there actually. I will pretend I didn’t see you turn your brother into a projectile though.” She said.

She’d been watching that long? At least she didn’t seem actually upset by it.

“You worn out?” She asked, seeming worried.

Yeah, he’d obviously not done a great job of hiding how he’d really been feeling the last couple of months, had he? But today wasn’t like that, at least not how she was assuming, he’d actually been more sociable than he could remember being… well, ever.

Besides, right now he had half a mind to ask her the same thing.

Still, he wasn’t sure if it was worth telling her about all the mistaken identity incidents, he knew it embarrassed her when someone said dumb shit because of their (smaller than average) age gap. But lying wouldn’t stop people from being confused and getting mixed up later.

“I figured it was time to retire for a bit after some of your guests mistook me for your plus one.” He admitted, voice heavily laced with scorn.

His mom looked every bit as mortified as he’d felt.

“I’m _so_ sorry Gord.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. If anything blame those three for choosing friends with thick parents.” 

“Yeah.” She said, though she didn’t really sound convinced.

Why did she always feel the need to blame herself for others’ misconceptions of her?

It was earlier than he’d planned, but he figured it was worth bringing out his hidden ace now, hopefully it might cheer her up… or make things much worse, he thought, though that was a gamble he was willing to take.

“I was tempted to pull this on them.” He said, sliding out the league card from his pocket. “Bet it would have made them cringe up their own arse.” 

She said nothing as she looked at it, too surprised to even pull him up on his language.

“Gordie… Where did you get this?” She finally asked.

“It came in one of those league card packs.” He lied nonchalantly.

“No it bloody didn’t. I know for a fact this is a very rare one.”

Briefly, he wondered if that meant she’d searched for a copy herself at some point.

“Alright, Alright. I may have bought it from a private collector. But I got a good deal.” He laughed.

Opal had been very surprised when he’d asked to buy it, proving that she’d known the sort of reaction it would invoke when she’d brought it out the other day. But he was willing to give her a pass considering she didn’t seem displeased that he’d changed his mind; outright refusing to let him pay for it, pointing out that it was his and his mother’s card in the first place.

“It’s for you.” He told her. 

“Why?”

“Well, I think instead of celebrating people for being born sometimes we should give presents to the one who actually put in all the effort during it.” He joked.

“I don’t think anyone wants to celebrate caesarean days.” His mother replied wryly, though she did take the card, looking at it wistfully.

“I’m surprised you didn’t burn this, you hated training with me.” She joked, though once more there was a very real sentiment underneath.

He’d be lying if he said the thought of destroying it _hadn’t_ crossed his mind.

Because it was true, he’d grown to despise training in Circhester with her; the ridiculous pressures and expectations from her and everyone else, just waiting for him to inherit from her, always serving as a dimmer substitute for his mother.

But if everyone out there was unable to see him as Melony’s son in the first place, then surely that was never all he had been? 

It stood to reason that, if no one could make their mind up on him, Gordie had the right to determine it for himself.

“I may have considered it.” He said jovially. “The truth is though, I’m sick of tired of feeling bad about everything from back then. So… I’m moving on from it.”

“I think that’s easier said than done.” His mother said, laying the card down once more.

“True. But it’s gotta be worth trying right?”

She watched him then, halfway as if he were a stranger.

“Yeah. I guess it has.”

 _That_ may have been worth trying, but they both agreed that socialising with suburban parents was not worth the effort, neither of them exactly blessed with social graces.

“We could just take the cakes out now.” He suggested.

“We weren’t planning to for ages though, I think it would mess up the party’s flow.”

“Yeah but if we sort that part, then we can pack up the rest whenever.” He laughed.

“Gordie!” She admonished.

“Look, all I’m saying is, if the party ends a little sooner than planned, then _we’ve_ got a few hours on the bouncy castle all to ourselves before they pick it up.” He said, indicating the pair of them.

Okay, fine, he wanted to try out the damned bouncy castle. Sue him. 

“Not happening.”

“The little one’s wouldn’t mind sharing, they’ve been sharing it with way more people.”

“I meant that you’re not going on, and _I’m_ definitely not.”

“Mom, c’mon. Look tiny Gordie in the eye and say that.” He argued, holding the card closer to her face.

“What does he have to do with anything?” She asked, humouring him for now.

“Because.” He said, with exaggerated sniffling. “That child there has never been on a bouncy castle.”

“Seriously?” She asked, in genuine shock at his revelation.

“I’m pretty sure, yeah. When have you been on one?” He asked.

“When I was a kid, obviously.”

Oh yeah. Sometimes he forgot that his mother would have done a bunch of things he hadn’t before he was born.

“Then surely you see the injustice?”

“I thought you were being an adult today?” She asked, changing course.

“Well, Platty asked me to go on, and it made me consider that maybe the others would benefit more from a cool, older brother than an extra guardian figure.”

“Mhm, they’ve already got a boring one of those.” His mother agreed.

“She would be not-boring if she went on a bouncy castle with them all later.” He rebutted. “It’s for your children, mom, all of them.”

To him it sounded like an impeccable, if also incredibly dumb, argument.

“I’m not cancelling the party early.” She said. “But we should have a few hours before they pick it up anyway.”

The implication was clear. 

“You’re kidding.”

“If we break this thing, you’re paying half whatever they charge us.” 

“More than fair.” He laughed.

It was peaceful after that, the calm before the storm maybe, considering that they hadn’t actually spoken about whatever it was his mom had wanted to. They were just enjoying the first properly comfortable silence between them in a long time, before that time came. 

“We should go and find Opal and get her to help with the cakes, it’s hardly fair to expect her to fend for herself out there.” His mother finally said.

“Alright, let’s brave it. But if _anyone_ calls me your boyfriend again, I’m nabbing their kid’s goody bag.” He threatened.

Something about that, such a stupid threat in the face of an equally ridiculous problem, apparently tipped his mother over the edge, sending her descending into full belly laughs.

(Seriously, how did he have the more delicate laugh out of the pair of them?)

“If you want one, I’m sure we have spares.” She said, composing herself.

“It’s more the pettiness of it all that would make me feel better, to be honest.”

So they set out once more, confident they could survive encountering even the most snobby of suburban parents.

Opal seemed relieved to see them, even if he was there too, though she did sense the tangible change in the vibe between them, some of the tension lightened for now.

Conversations were easier with his mother there, everyone knew her already and she could quickly introduce him as her eldest, removing any further awkward misunderstandings. Even if they still got the looks. 

Though whenever someone asked about the gym, or even why Gordie had never been seen before things tended to get a little stifled.

Still, the rest of the party went a lot smoother than the earlier portions, and watching his half-siblings blowing out their candles, he was struck by the thought that he hoped he’d get to see many more days like these, by their side.

But first… they had a garden full of children and nosy parents to usher out, ready for his and his mother’s appointment with the bouncy castle.

“Last chance to back out.” He threatened, once they were finally ready. 

His mother just watched him challengingly, having apparently triggered her competitive streak.

To think, she’d had the gall to accuse _him_ of being immature… then again, when they’d both ended up on a children’s bouncy castle he had to admit that it was a sort of glass houses and stones situation.

Which summed up most of their arguments, come to think of it.

Now, if the bouncy castle wasn’t built for them, then it was also perfectly reasonable to point out that they weren’t necessarily built for _it_ either. Which wasn’t that much of a surprise, to be honest.

Gordie had some experience trampolining in the past (nevermind that he’d been much younger and lighter at the time), but on one of those the tension of the elastic gave a sense of how high he would go. Bouncy castles on the other hand were apparently not bound to those same laws of physics; the fiendish contraptions.

At least, he noted with only a _touch_ of pettiness, he was holding up better than his mother, who had resorted to holding down her chest with folded arms to avoid injury (and general embarrassment). Though the position was only serving to make her look grumpy, which paired hilariously with the fact they were on a bloody bouncy castle.

Not that he was about to start laughing at her for it, she’d been a better sport than he’d expected for joining him in the first place. Besides, he was certain he didn’t look _much_ less ridiculous.

This thing was not meant to accommodate the momentum of two reasonably large adults jumping on it, made clear by the not insignificant number of times they almost whacked heads, launching as the other landed. 

Really, he supposed it was the inherent terror of bouncy castles that made kids enjoy them in the first place.

Not that he was overly keen to repeat the experience now that he’d ticked it off his bucket list.

At least he hadn’t been at first. But his mother tapped out before him, and without the risk of being launched when they timed the bounces wrong, it wasn’t that bad.

It was… alright actually.

Granted he probably should have been acting with a little more concern about popping the thing, but Gordie hadn’t really taken the time to practice any gymnastics since… well, ages. (After a certain point he’d been afraid to try, scared he’d mess it up from disuse, and of what that would mean.)

This definitely wasn’t as sturdy as a trampoline, but he was reaching decent heights, and the reassurance of a soft landing was granting him a courage he’d lacked for months. So he decided to play around a little, long having accepted he’d lost his bet of being a sensible adult this morning.

What was so wrong about being an insensible one sometimes?

Being in the air had always been a freeing feeling, and the way his body still _knew,_ all the way down to his bones, how he was meant to move through each of the motions was gratifying.

While he was here (and while he still felt alright in general) it was worth working on the Barani again, reckoning he’d be able to polish it here where he could get a better height.

The sensation was incomparable. It made him feel very alive, and maybe dizzy, but not nauseous. Dizzy like nothing could ever him pull him back to the ground again instead.

It wasn’t until he’d actually managed to land it, that he realised that he had a companion apart from the heartbeat currently pounding in his ears.

“My turn!” He heard, among what counted as big applause from such tiny hands.

That was reasonable, it was Platty’s birthday after all, not his. Gordie was teaching him how to perfect a front flip on there when the others turned up, with other ideas. 

To be fair, it was also Pearl’s and Mondy’s birthday, the pair apparently eager to try out being lobbed onto a bouncy castle like their brother had been earlier in the day. This time he enlisted his mom’s help, grabbing a leg while she grabbed an arm to ‘leg and a wing’ toss them.

Platty, for his part, was willing to forget about trying the front flip for now, on the promise that he’d get lots of chances to be thrown in as well. 

Unlike Opal who repeatedly claimed that she didn’t want to be chucked… or at least did so until a trio of six-year-olds goaded her into it. Her screams were even shriller than theirs had been, he noted, though she hadn’t been hurt in the endeavour.

She _was_ resolute in that there would be no repeats however.

He felt that maybe they’d all secretly preferred this part of the day over the party.

“Alright. It’s time to get off, they’ll be here to collect it soon.“ His mother finally announced.

Arceus, he was already missing chucking the little buggers in.

Not least of all because of what the end of the party actually signified.

“Look we’ve had a really nice day, do you want to talk about.. stuff tomorrow?” He posed to his mother that evening while the birthday trio were brushing their teeth ready for bed.

“No.” His mother firmly said, to his surprise.

“Today has been lovely, and I know that if I don’t say this now I’m never gonna be able to.” She admitted.

Seriously, what was she planning on telling him? He was actually borderline afraid.

“You have every right to hate me.” She began.

Clearly, they were on very different pages, his fear beginning to feel warranted.

“I don’t hate you! I think we were both trying to do right by each other, it just doesn’t always work out that way.”

“I wasn’t doing right by you. Trust me when I say that I have never done right by anyone but myself.” She claimed venomously, as if she wanted Gordie to be as angry at her as she clearly was herself.

Gordie had never seen her like this. 

”You couldn’t have known… But I… I could have avoided all of this.” She continued.

“How?”

No one could stop the hands of death; he hoped she wasn’t blaming herself for not noticing some invisible signs that could have foreseen it. Or maybe she meant the gym, as if she could have seen his fuck-up happening as an inevitability.

Except, what she did say was far more impossible and made less sense in his mind.

“My parents.” 

The ones she hadn’t spoken to in decades? He doubted they’d have been much help. He hated the though that she’d go back to them to try and spare him.

“Mom… I wouldn’t ever expect you to do something like that. I mean you were just widowed, you wouldn’t want have to track down your parents and… try and forgive all that too.”

She just watched him then, with an expression he recognised well from working with Opal; pity that someone understood so little of what you were saying.

“Gordie, the funeral announcements made the news… They already knew. They offered to help.”

“What? How? When did they even…”

Had they been in the room at the reception? Had he walked right past them like strangers?

“They sent a card, I didn’t even know they knew my address. There… there was a number inside, and they offered to help, and they had always said it would be without any strings.” She started to explain.

“What did you do with the card?” He interrupted.

“I threw it out, straight away.”

Gordie couldn’t decide if he remembered her doing so, or was placing the image retrospectively into that day now that he knew.

It was bizarre.

Did that mean he could have reached in the bin and found the only connection to the rest of his family?

What did ‘always said’ mean, had they offered to help before? 

If they knew the address why had they never come to try and make things right?

His head was spinning at the possibilities of it all, in spite of his resolve to take whatever his mom had to say on the chin.

To be fair though… he hadn’t expected _this_.

“But if I had just bloody swallowed my pride they could have helped with the kids, and I could have just sucked it up at Circhester. Then I wouldn’t have to tie you down, you could have stayed happy in Alola.”

“I wasn’t happy there, I haven’t been properly happy for a long time.” He admitted, feeling stripped bare as his mother watched him say it. 

“Besides, we weren’t doing this because of what we ‘needed’, we were trying to help each other feel better. If Circhester makes you miserable then why don’t you leave? I know you can afford to.”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, tearing up. “I don’t even know if it does make me happy or not.” 

“Did you think it would make me happy?” He asked.

“If I’d thought it would have turned out like this I would never have asked you. I wanted you to enjoy it Gord.”

“Then let’s say that’s all that matters when it comes to that… Do you forgive me for cocking it up?”

“You didn’t mess it up, you tried even though I gave you a job you hated.”

Great, now she was blaming herself for everything. 

“I don’t hate ice Pokémon. I mean, you have a league card that proves that training with them is always gonna feel a bit like home for me. It’s just… rock type training is something new and special, and it feels like it’s all mine, you know?”

“I do.” She agreed fondly.

He supposed she must have felt that way when she’d discovered ice Pokémon in the first place.

The revelation hadn’t been catastrophic, though that was in large part because it hadn’t exactly sunk in yet. They were in a stage of tentative calm, currently.

Too bad he was gonna ruin it.

“How many times have your parents offered to help out?” He asked, destroying the fragile peace.

She looked hurt, and angry, though Gordie assumed it was still directed at herself; or maybe her parents now.

“Three times.” She finally admitted, offering no more context.

“Right.”

Really, what else could he say to that?

Gordie tried to think of three points where they would have needed help, though among the years of money struggles and desperate loneliness he couldn’t decide.

Arceus, how about six years ago? The pregnancy of the triplets had been brutal on her, and the pressures she’d put on him over Circhester had been brutal in turn, a time (if any) he could pinpoint the start of this spiral, this lack of control over his own life.

Of course the triplets were still a major force in their lives, his mother deciding to run off to tuck them in, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

If her parents had unconditionally offered support, why had she said no?

What sort of people were they in the first place?

She didn’t come back. So he left too.

He could spend all night wondering about all the mysteries of this and failing to sleep, he knew.

Or he could just bloody ask. 

She said it herself, that if she didn’t talk tonight, she may never be able to. It was the time to be brave about it.

Only, the door to her room seemed like an impassable distance right now, cold, heavy oak with even colder, heavier air surrounding it. He knocked, knowing that there wasn’t any chance she was still tucking them in or asleep; how could either of them fall asleep when so much had been left unsaid? Half of him expected her to pretend though, to stay in bed, safe with her secrets.

Except, he must not have been the only one trying, because he could hear movement, followed by the scrape of the doorknob turning.

Sad eyes were watching him as the door opened, and he knew she hadn’t been expecting one of the others.

It was now or never.

“I want to talk.” He said.

“About my parents.”

It wasn’t a question, but he still felt the need to justify himself.

“You’ve never told me anything about your family, but they’re my family too. I’m not saying I’m gonna search for them, I just… I just wanna understand. I want to know why we’ve stayed away.”

“I know… You have every right to understand.”

He was afraid that she was going to tell him no anyway then, and it seemed like she was afraid of the same thing. Her expression was tired, the sort of deeply, inescapably fatigued he’d been for months, but he watched as slowly a new resolve spread across her face.

“Gord… Let’s go downstairs and grab something to drink. It’s… it’s sort of a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should explain some terms, just because I don't know how prevalent they are outside of the UK.
> 
> Tat - Useless knick-knacks etc. (Imagine the inside of a souvenir shop)   
> Thick - Fairly harmless way of calling someone stupid, Gordie was not calling their parents Thicc.


	18. Twenty Years and Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordie knows the story of his mother's misery is also the story of his life. 
> 
> But somehow it's not the one he'd always known.

His mother had said it would be a long story, but Gordie couldn’t imagine it was really a story at all. Stories generally had structure, morals, and an _ending_ even if they had none of the rest. He wasn’t naïve enough to not know where all of this had begun, and as far as he was concerned neither of their lives could claim to be a story, life was never quite as neat as it sounded scrawled across pages, and he was confident they hadn’t yet found resolution in theirs.

You couldn’t see a story’s course if you were still trapped in the middle after all, it was just an onslaught of events without any reason. 

“You alright sweetheart?” His mom’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Mhm, I fine.” He lied. “I’m just waiting for this to cool. I’m ready.”

Better to blame hot mugs than admit that today had taken so much out of him that he had passed the point of tired and was now o _ver-tired_ , something he firmly believed should be saved for airports and train stations at ridiculous times in the morning. It always left him overly thoughtful, but near senseless, as if he’d managed to get drunk on his own fatigue. The perfect combination for discussions an entire lifetime in the making, really.

He watched as she gathered herself.

“This all started when I found out I was gonna be a mom, with you.” She began. 

Apparently, he was not the only one perhaps a bit beyond sleepy, he realised, as she verged into rambling.

“Mom is a pretty big word, isn’t it? I mean, I’d spent my entire life saying it to my own and never really thought about it. But it just… consumes everything else.”

Under other circumstances, Gordie may have pointed out that mom was, as words went, pretty short; right now he couldn’t imagine that his input would be appreciated though.

“It shouldn’t be.” She continued. “I mean, I’d even managed to prove that motherhood wasn’t as permanent a bond as everyone seemed to think when I cut myself off from my parents, and I knew I was still _me_ while I was pregnant… No one else really saw it that way though.”

“How did it happen?” He asked. “I mean… how did you meet my father, not like, literally.”

She was smirking at how awkwardly his question had come out, though that was better that than grimacing at the question itself. He knew he was pushing it, but right now he was mostly looking for a distraction. Despite the fact he’d literally asked for the conversation, it still hurt whenever she spoke about how people treated her back then.

Part of him thought she wouldn’t answer; that she’d keep her secrets where they had always been. But maybe seeing her old league card earlier had made her reflective, or maybe she was just as tired of this as him, because she began talking once more.

“It was the summer before college and I was at that age where I was… easily bored. So I did what any trendy, popular young lady would do; I pestered the Pokémon centre staff until they hooked me and my Lapras up with a job.”

“You absolute rebel.” He interrupted wryly.

“I was being a rebel! My friend knew a guy who printed fake IDs and I was gonna use the money to spend my entire first year clubbing.”

He just raised his brows, knowing that his mom wasn’t exactly a big drinker, or a drinker at all really. 

“Which isn’t big or clever, so don’t do it!” She quickly added, probably realising she shouldn’t have defended her ‘coolness’ with something she’d kill any of her kids for if they pulled it. 

“I’m a bit old for fake IDs mom.” He pointed out. “Though I’ll make sure that if I find myself in Unova in the next three months, I won’t follow your example.”

“You make me feel very old when you say things like that.” She joked.

There was no way of winning with that one, he knew, risking either calling her old or pointing out she wasn’t _that_ much older than him in the grand scheme of things.

“We’re getting off-topic.” He said instead.

“Right, right. That was my _plan_ for the year anyway, spoiler alert, didn’t quite happen like that.” She laughed. “I had been highly recommended to a Pokémon professor who lived around the next village over, and she dumped her… _guest_ on me.”

“Was it…?”

“Yeah, it was your dad.” She said, smiling wistfully. “He was spending half a year in Galar for research stuff, and to be honest I think the professor was just handing him over to me because she found him annoying.”

“Was he?”

Wouldn’t that be awful? To have the first thing of substance he found out about his father be that he was so obnoxious that you struggled to be around him.

“No! He was lovely, she probably just wasn’t used to working with someone his age. _We_ always had a great time at least. We’d go to raids, find a bunch of dynamax Pokémon, and I’d keep him safe while he pointed loads of machines at them.”

“Sounds like the perfect team.”

“We were. That summer we were pretty much glued together… we got pretty close.”

“I’m _sure_ you did.”

“I meant emotionally.” His mother replied dryly. “We hadn’t actually… done much by the time college started up for me. Suddenly I was barely seeing him, and I _missed_ him. I remember all my friends making fun of me for hanging out with him in my spare time instead of going out with them.”

She seemed to be remembering it fondly, in spite of what he knew inevitably came next.

“Then… we made you. You know how it is.”

Gordie wasn’t gonna point out that while factually he did know, he didn’t exactly ‘ _know how it was’_. A lifetime of judgement directed at his mother for having him so young had left him with irrevocable scars; choosing to never put himself in that position, too scared of the outcome. Arceus, he’d barely kissed anyone. (No, his other heaps of emotional baggage had _nothing_ to do with his lack of dating.) 

Despite his mother’s conviction that he’d gone on some sort of world-wide bachelor’s tour, that was.

“If he was so great, why didn’t he stay?” Gordie asked, avoiding the other topic altogether.

“He went back home after his half year was up… I never told him I was pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, _What_?” He asked, louder than expected, forgetting to be mindful of the ones asleep upstairs.

Though in his defence, she’d just thrown a bloody curveball and a half. His entire life he’d believed that his father had chosen to abandoned his mother to avoid having to deal with him. Just like his grandparents, and well… everyone.

Apparently he’d never been given the chance to.

“I was trying to decide how to tell him, but my parents found out first.” His mother said. “One of my ‘friends’ spread it around the college when I told her… heinous bitch.”

Well then.

At least her parents _did_ know about it.

Ignoring the remark about her classmate, they’d somehow gotten straight back to the meat of what Gordie had needed to hear, had been so afraid to find out.

Why was he afraid?

This truth was something they’d kept carefully stowed in the dark his entire life. Sometimes it would whisper enticingly, but he’d known from the start it was never something he was supposed to know, on some visceral level he’d understood that once you knew something, you could never escape it. It didn’t matter that in the daytime you were always going forwards and leaving the past behind. 

Because in the dark, time stood still and you were forever stuck where you had once been.

He supposed it wouldn’t make all that much of a difference, if he was already in an awful place without it however.

“And they weren’t happy.” Gordie said, something less than a question.

“No. They weren’t.”

“They wanted me to give you away, or get rid of you before anyone else found out. They were trying to get my doctor to scare me and they kept demanding that I tell them who the dad was, and I knew they were gonna try and get him to tell me to do the same.”

“You thought he would’ve?”

“I didn’t want to risk it… I was already outnumbered. Luckily, they were only searching among the guys at my college, even if that did mean that _literally_ everyone else found out.”

“If he would have turned on you like that, then he sounds like a dick.”

She just watched him sadly at that.

“Keeping it secret might have been easier if he was, but… he wasn’t. I think he would have tried to fight my corner, but his parents were really influential on him, and from how he described them I doubt they’d be pleased about his life going off course like that… Plus, there was a girl back home.”

“You were the _sidepiece_?” He asked, offended on her behalf.

“No! No, there was this girl who he was friends with, and he didn’t seem to get it, but I could tell he had feelings for her. He showed me a picture of them together once, the awkward bastard.” She explained, laughing at what he would’ve thought should have been painful for her.

Gordie wonder what that meant about how she’d felt towards his father, that she wanted to stay around him even believing that. 

“You didn’t want to make him choose.”

“To be honest I wasn’t sure I’d be happy either way. I liked him, but I wouldn’t call it love or anything, I wasn’t ready to spend my whole life with him. Plus, that girl was _really_ pretty.”

“You’re beautiful mom.” He felt the need to defend her, even to herself.

“Trust me, she was prettier. But that wasn’t the point, I just… wasn’t taking the risk back then.”

“Back then?”

“As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realised that… maybe it isn’t always my place to decide what other people do or don’t get to do. To be honest, in hindsight I think he deserved to have been told.”

There was so much more Gordie wanted to ask, chiefly, what she would have done if his father had said ‘give him away’. 

“Thank you for telling me.” He said instead, knowing what I must have taken for her to say even as much as she had. “And, for the record, I’ve never needed him to be happy, and I get why you didn’t tell him.”

On some level he was unsure how true the latter point was, but it was long passed by this point and his mother had clearly spent enough time torturing herself over it. That was the trick about forgiveness, it wasn’t really given out on a deserves basis most of the time, but a needs one.

Arceus knew she’d done the same for him plenty of times, because who _actually_ deserved to be forgiven? Who actually deserved to withhold it either? 

“Did your parents change their minds then? If they ended up reaching out?” He asked.

“Long after the bloody fact.” She said, scornfully, before sobering. “That… I wanna put all of this this in proper context for you. I think it might be easier to get why I didn’t let them if you understand, well, how I’d lived in the interim.”

Whatever unnameable fear he held about this situation, his mother’s was not the same; hers as obvious and ancient as human conflict itself. As far as she was concerned this was a trial, and Gordie was to judge any supposed guilt of hers in the matter, he could tell. 

“A few months in I had to take us away, I just couldn’t stay with them any longer. They had basically told me that if I kept you neither of us would have a place with them, that if I was stupid enough to get myself knocked up in the first place then I wouldn’t be able to raise a child fairly. I didn’t want to stick around and find out if they’d follow through.”

Those words didn’t sound as if they had come from her, but as if her parent’s voice had somehow found an outlet from her throat. Something she must have carried with her the better part of twenty-one years, like a scar.

As if having a baby didn’t cause enough of those in the first place.

“They were wrong.” He insisted.

She looked back to him, unconvinced.

Granted he and his mother had their problems sometimes, but she’d managed to do a more than alright job raising him, without any other family as a safety net. He’d just been a difficult kid from the get-go, she wasn’t silly or irresponsible with him. 

“It was harder, before I gave birth. No one wanted to give me work, because, well, I was bloody pregnant and practically everything about me screamed ‘teen runaway’. I had to use what I’d got in savings, and basically just hustle the rest from Pokémon battles and stay at crappy youth hostels.” She admitted.

“But when I went into labour… Well, the hospital staff weren’t exactly happy about the ‘no fixed address’ thing, basically assigned an entire social care department onto my case.” She said, laughing hollowly. “I managed to find a temporary place, and get proper support until I found that flat we ended up living in.”

“I remember.”

“The family that ran the shop owned both the flats above; you know the type where they convert the living rooms into bedrooms so they can cram more people in? They usually rented to students, but they were willing to rent to me, despite all the warning signs. The mom used to babysit you.”

He remembered that family too, vaguely. They’d been nice enough. A rarity from people when he was young, which is probably why it had stuck out now he’d been reminded of them. There had been a woman, with a kid much older than him, who would look after him sometimes when his mother was working.

Again, it was more like the barest impressions of recollections, rather than true memories themselves. A hint of a smile, and arms too dark to be his mother’s holding his hand, a different voice speaking almost as kindly towards him.

They weren’t bad memories looking back on them, which was probably how he’d forgotten in the first place. Because people held onto the pain instead, the things they were meant to avoid to keep themselves safe. 

“Why did you stay in Circhester? Why did you come in the first place? It’s fairly pricey.” He asked.

“I was heading to Wyndon actually, I just wanted to be in some place big enough to really get lost in the crowds. But I dunno… I _liked_ it here.”

“Pretty cold place to raise a baby.” He pointed out.

“Everywhere is cold when you’re trying to raise one alone.” She rebutted. “Circhester isn’t that cold anyway, not really. I remember seeing the steam rising from the Hero’s Bath in the centre of town for the first time, and thinking it was like a heart, pumping hot blood around the city… I used to visit it a lot, at night. Trying to figure out how to construct a life for us.”

Part of her sounded very far away then, as if she was really back there instead of in here.

“I didn’t really know anyone in the city, but it just meant that I noticed everyone. I started noticing girls around my age going out, no fake IDs necessary, wearing things I’d never dreamed of back then. They looked nice, and trendy, and I guess I wanted to be like them for a little bit… I wanted to be me again.”

Somehow from her tone, he didn’t think she’d managed to re-capture the magic of it.

“I wasn’t stupid, I knew that the pregnancy had changed my body, but until I tried acting like other girls my age I didn’t realise the extent. I suppose I’d gotten used to it.” She explained. “But I looked older than them, more like a woman than a girl. I was, let’s say _curvier_ , and I had a bunch of stretch marks that I wasn’t exactly racing to show off… It was like I was living in someone else’s body.”

Gordie wondered exactly how pathetic it was that he could relate to most of that, without the whole pregnancy thing to justify it.

The next part was a _tad_ further removed, however.

“I’d been breastfeeding too, so my chest had gotten absolutely massive, which honestly, I hadn’t hated at first. Though I’d always been too embarrassed to feed you in public.” She said, sounding a little flustered even talking about it. “Silly, considering my little flatmate only saw me as a food source half the time he was awake.”

Arceus, did she have to phrase it like that?

It was strange, hearing about this sort of thing, like he was being let in on some secret of motherhood that other women wouldn’t like him knowing. Or maybe it was just his mother’s nature to be self-contained and other moms wouldn’t care either way. He thought about those women from this morning, how readily they’d given away stories about their children.

Though he supposed theirs were just sweet anecdotes, while his early childhood tended to play out more like a tragedy. 

“But around that time I started noticing that a lot of men would look at me like they wanted me as food too… and I hated it, I hated that middle-aged men would watch me like that, would try it on with me as if I wasn’t young enough to be their daughter.”

Gordie hated it too, like most things he remembered bothering his mother, to be fair.

“I realised I’d changed on the inside too, I couldn’t afford to be naïve anymore. I never used to mind being looked at before I left home. I was young and silly enough to take it as a compliment when boys stared, when boys _wanted_ me. It took me until I was alone to figure out that wanting is all about possessing, to feel the loss of the part they take from you with their leering, the bit they keep when they realise they’re not allowed the rest of you.”

This was… a lot.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed how controlled his mother’s image was; disinclined to do magazine shoots or adverts, and more conservatively dressed than most other trainers. He just hadn’t realised how much of it had been her consciously withholding her ‘image’ from others, whatever parts she could control anyway. 

Not that he couldn’t relate to the feeling. He didn’t blame her for it at all.

It was hard to stand tall with the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, he knew from experience. Maybe it wasn’t a weight though, eyes weren’t really _heavy_ after all, maybe it was more like… an itch. Every person’s gaze an insect settling on your face, your arms, any exposed part of you, their feet too delicate to go unnoticed. But then the gazes would stay fixed upon you, the insects all beginning to crawl.

And you would tear your skin open to get them off.

“I worry that I’ve ended up teaching all these silly hang-ups to you though, and that’s honestly the last thing I ever wanted.” She leaned over and pinched his cheek. “You’re perfect.”

“Oi! Don’t-” He protested, though he didn’t put up much of a fight, knowing she _meant_ well.

Though he wasn’t sure he appreciated her perspective on the issue, that he had learnt his own… _private tendencies_ on her knee. He liked to think he had perfectly sensible reasons for any alleged ‘aversion’ to being the focus of attention, though it left him ill at ease whenever he was forced to actually reflect on it, and acknowledge that whatever factor he pinned it on, there had always been another excuse before it.

“I’ll admit, you picked an odd career path in that case.” He said.

“To be honest… that was sort of an accident. I didn’t stop Pokémon battling for money once I had a job, there’s always a big underground battling scene whenever there’s a league gym in a city.”

“Underground, sounds edgy.” He said sardonically.

“Alright, you know what I mean. It’s all unregistered trainers, they fight for money but none of them are actually a part of the league… well, in theory.”

Gordie could see where this was going.. 

“Oh no.”

“Yep. One day I beat this guy, and he suddenly drops this spiel about how he’d been looking for me. Now, bear in mind I’ve had a lot of guys be creepy by this point so I’m having none of it initially. But he explains that he’s in charge of a minor league Ice-gym, he’s getting old and wants a successor, yada yada yada, he’d heard about someone on the unofficial scene who used a lot of ice Pokémon… and well, the rest is history.”

“Can’t imagine why a gym leader would go battle with unlicensed amateurs instead of his own trainers.” Gordie said, his voice dripping with irony.

His mother outright snorted at his misery, the absolute bully.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t actually make the connection straight away when you did that, though I remembered again while we weren’t talking as much.”

Right. Back _then._

“So why did you say yes?” He asked, once more swerving the landmine before it detonated.

“The money was better. And I liked battling… I liked the way winning made me feel. Ever since I’d moved to Circhester no one had seen me as me, barely anyone even knew my name. In fact the only person that regularly spoke to me was you, and to you I was just ‘mom’.”

There was that word again. She was right, it did take away everything else sometimes.

“I’ve always loved being your mom, but I didn’t just want to be ‘Gordie’s mom’ for the rest of my life, do you get what I mean?”

Almost painfully so, he could have told her, though they both knew it didn’t need to be said.

“I figured maybe I’d have some success in the minors, give someone a reason to remember I existed, that I was a real human being after all. I just wanted to find a space in my life where people did anything other than look down on me. I wanted something resembling my old life back.”

“Well, no one can accuse you of being an underachiever.” He sniped. 

“You’d think so, but my entire gym hated me at first. I’d never trained there before, I’d never even been registered to the league, but suddenly I was stood there leading them. They had… theories of their own over why.” She said, trailing off with a twinge of bitterness.

Gordie could imagine, but he wanted to know if any of the trainers still there today had said anything.

“Like?”

“Oh come on, don’t make me say it… the general implication among them was that I’d gotten in the role in exchange for… _favours_.” She said deliberately.

“Did you keep any of the trainers who said stuff like that in your team?” He asked, failing to hide his surge of fury at the prospect.

Some of the older guys who still trained there gave Gordie the vibe that they’d accuse women of using sex to gain leverage in life. He just wanted to be _sure_ though, before he went around assaulting old men for being derogatory to his mom.

She just rolled her eyes, as if she didn’t deserve to be angry too. No one who disrespected her like that deserved to profit in the majors based purely on her talent.

“Anyway… I was _too_ successful really. When Circhester was in the running to be promoted to the majors, I was suddenly plastered all over national TV and I knew it was over. I knew I’d been found.”

“That was the first time your parents got in contact then?”

“Yes, the very next day after the announcement. They came into the gym building itself, the people at reception told me after that they’d been just… sat there for hours. Waiting. What were hours compared to years, after all?”

“And?”

“It was the worst thing that had happened to me in very long time.”

“What? Why?”

What had they done to hurt her that much?

“Because I finally realised what I’d really missed all these years; not parents I’d lost, but the ones I’d never had. The pair who cooed over the baby boy they loved just as much as I did. How could someone ever truly miss anyone if no one measured up to the version we created of them in their absence?”

His mother seemed overtaken then, once more faraway, wrapped up fully in the moment.

“I told them no when they asked me to come home. I said that I was going to get my gym into the majors, and that it would be my proof that they’d been wrong, that I could look after you and myself. When they offered to support me I told them there was nothing they could possibly give to me.”

She paused, struggling to choke out what came next. 

“I told them I didn’t care when they said they’d spent years scared that I was dead, that you were dead, that they were sorry, that they’d been wrong… I just told them to stay away from us.”

Gordie didn’t have anything to say, he could barely _think_.

“Seeing them ruined me Gord. I felt like I _had_ died, that I’d died and woken up someone else, and whatever had mattered to the old Melony meant nothing to me. I hadn’t been able to see how bad a place I’d been in before, but it sent me plummeting.”

Something in her seemed to be plummeting once more, just recounting it. 

“I genuinely believed that I couldn’t get close to people, that I’d somehow lost my ability to form bonds after leaving them all behind… I- I’m sorry I, shouldn’t be making you listen to all of this.” She said in a faltering finish, losing whatever momentum had pushed her through.

“No! I said I wanted to understand, and I do. If you want to tell someone this, then I want to be here for you.” He argued.

Couldn’t he be her confessional just this once? He wanted to be strong enough for her to turn to. 

Especially when it was over the life and family they shared.

“I just… I’m scared I’m incriminating myself.” She admitted. “I honestly felt at the time that this was my way of keeping you safe from the people who had hurt us. But maybe I was just trying to punish them, for not being the parents I’d wanted them to be.”

“Mom, you clearly weren’t in a great state of mind then, I think you need to cut yourself some slack. They’d really hurt you, you don’t have to let that go just because they asked you to.”

“You’ve never punished me for not being the mother I should’ve been, even when you… felt like I did.”

It felt like a punch, the acknowledgment that she’d seen the emptiness, the dearth of life behind his eyes and recognised it in kind. Though he supposed, she’d lived with it much longer.

Had she ever let it go?

Would he be able to?

“I mean, you’ve never done _anything_ like that to me… and I still ran away from home.” He pointed out.

“But you came back, and you stayed this time.”

“I forgave you, and I wanted you to forgive me too. You can’t try and form that relationship again if you haven’t forgiven in the first place, I would never have wanted you to have forced it just because you thought it might benefit me to be around them. Which we don’t even know that it would have.”

She started watching him them, sadly almost, like when you were saying goodbye to someone.

“When did my baby grow up?” She asked. “You shouldn’t have to look after me sweetheart.”

“I’m not. I know you can look after yourself… We shouldn’t stop looking out for each other just because we _could_ survive alone.” He argued.

Besides, Gordie wanted to do more than just survive.

“As cheerful as all this is, I fancy a little break.” His mother interrupted. “I’m out of hot chocolate anyway. Do you need a refill?”

“I’ll do them, don’t worry.” He offered, mostly just looking for something to do that would distract his hands, if not his mind.

There were ring stains spanning the inside of the mugs, he noticed while refilling them, where tea must have been left forgotten at various points until it was chucked out, maybe in conversations like these, or little talks about nothing in particular.

Bizarrely, they reminded him of the rings on a tree, having been told once they could be counted to know its age, though he’d never actually done so himself, knowing they were too many to bother. It was as if these stains showed that these mugs were part of a house, of a life, that had been lived in. Rings representing years of just… being here, making each other drinks and talking. Even if until now, it had been quite a while since they’d done so.

Maybe that’s why there was so much he couldn’t say right now. Maybe, just like those rings, there was simply too much to bother.

Better just to start with what he could say. Hope to find something of value.

“Did it get easier? Like, leading and… everything. Did you start feeling better?” He asked, setting the steaming mugs down on the coffee table.

It hadn’t been much of a break, honestly, but they didn’t exactly have that much of a _night_ left.

“Mhm it did, eventually.” She said. “It’s easier when you’ve got someone who wants that for you… and my inquisitive little flatmate had started opening doors and catching me when I was sad.” 

He hated the thought that any happiness from that time was just a performance for his benefit, uncomfortable in the knowledge that he’d been acting similarly for weeks.

“You shouldn’t have made yourself smile for me if that wasn’t how you felt.

“I never wanted you to see me like that though.”

“I’ve never thought any less of you for it.” He argued.

After all, in the end he’d resorted to ignorance over the matter, just so she’d at least have a place she felt safe in letting all of it out in the first place.

“My life in general was improving too, you know, it wasn’t fake happiness. Circhester was flourishing and my trainers had decided they trusted me. I felt… acknowledged. Well, the gym was sort of a bubble for me in that regard, the public were still being, well, generally vile.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, but in hindsight I think most people just think that successful, young women ought to be brought down a notch. I don’t really like saying things like that though, feels like I’m just victimising myself.”

“I doubt it, I’m fairly sure I recall people saying some _pretty_ gross things about you.” Gordie admitted.

Mostly it was from boys his own age while he was at school, though unfortunately he’d never had that sort of natural aggression where he’d actually be able to put up a decent (fist) fight if they’d started one. If they’d been allowed to take Pokémon to school it may have been a different story, but honestly, the fact they couldn’t was probably what had given them the bravery to say that shite in the first place.

“I hate that you’ve had to grow up hearing that stuff! That was actually one thing I had to give my parents credit for, you know. They never sold any stories about me to the press, even though I was terrified they would after I turned them away.”

She paused, thoughtfully.

“I’m certain they must have been approached. Again, a lot of so-called ‘old friends’ never spared me the same courtesy, though I’ve never understood how I’m apparently interesting enough to make the newspaper.”

“They actually ran stories like that?”

“They tried. It’s hard to make a juicy one from acquaintance witnesses though, when anyone who bothered to do the maths and subtract your age from mine would come to the same conclusion. But if they’d gotten the ‘scoop’ from my parents? I reckon that would have been enough to shatter my credibility for most people.”

“Okay so, things had been ‘eh’ for a while. Did they get back in touch then, or was it after you’d met the little ones’ dad and felt better?” He asked.

“Things didn’t start getting better because I met their dad, Gord. I was able to let their dad in _because_ things had been getting better. I had to make all those decision myself though, and it was scary at the time.”

He wasn’t missing the implications in her tone about the relevance of this to his current circumstances, though frankly he didn’t want to think about himself right now, let alone talk about it.

“Alright but did they reach out before or after?” He asked plainly.

“After. The second time was a letter, to the gym again, when they found out I was engaged. And to be honest, I was finally moving on and I was afraid to let them back in, scared it had been too long.”

“Moving on? Because of the wedding, or this place?”

“Both, I suppose. I’d finally chosen to believe that I was worth other people spending their time with, I was ready to move on, or move out in this case.” She admitted. “I should’ve done it sooner really, you were growing up fast and needed your space. I would have been able to afford the rent on a bigger place for ages… but the family below were the only people we were anything resembling close to until then.”

Gordie guessed that answered a question he’d never really asked.

About something he’d never wanted in the first place.

That flat had been an island, to him. Which he supposed made them castaways, forgotten by the rest of the world. They probably weren’t the only pair of people who had managed to scrape together some semblance of a life in isolation like that, how could he not have when he’d known nothing else?

It was apparently different for his mother, she’d wanted to leave, to go back to her real home, or at least to a sort of place resembling what it should be. When her family (never his, not back then) had gotten bigger, they’d had no choice but to move, nevermind that Gordie had asked for neither.

But if this place was home for her, solid land at last, then he’d just been set adrift at sea, carried by the changing tides and buffeted by a roaring turbulence, as if he was just more of the debris from his mother’s old life, something else that would be left behind in time.

Something else she had to move on from. 

It had been too easy to get lost here, in this house that looked so similar to all the other ones he’d see walking to school every morning, in uniforms just like him. Inside it was no different; too many rooms, too many people in his little bubble. 

It had been easy to feel lonely here too, something he’d over-achieved at for years.

“I got rid of the letter, threw it out like the card.” His mother admitted, pulling him out of his reverie. “I wish I could say I’d burnt it or something, make it a little more exciting, but even then I’d been too old for dramatics. They didn’t try and get in touch again.”

“Until the funeral.”

“Until the funeral.” She agreed, gravely. “Part of me thinks I should have extended the olive branch this time, but it’s been so long Gord, I don’t know how I _could_ have a connection to them anymore. But don’t my kids deserve to have the choice of having them in their lives?”

“You were just widowed! No one was gonna think you’re a bad person for looking after your interests for a bit. Do you want to get to know your parents again?” He asked.

“I honestly don’t know. As I’ve gotten older… as we’ve dealt with our own disagreements, I’ve found it easier to empathise with their point of view. I still think they were out of order, but I know that they were scared too. I’ve felt that now.”

“Well, why don’t you then? It’s not like you have to go straight back into being how you were when you were sixteen.” 

“You know something like that is harder to withdraw than withhold… and I really haven’t figured out what to do about it. After he died it sort of reminded me of their mortality too, of all the wasted time, and the deadline we’re running on.”

The only true deadline, Gordie thought.

“Why don’t you write a letter? Instead of phoning them up, write something and give yourself the chance to evaluate it on paper and figure out if it’s what you really want to do.” He suggested.

After all, lives _were_ neater scrawled on paper. 

“I’d have to, I didn’t memorise the number before chucking it away, but I don’t imagine they’ve moved house since I left.”

“Then do it, it doesn’t mean you have to actually send it, and if you need to talk about it in the meantime… well, I’m here.”

“Yeah, you are. Thank you… for this… and for staying.” She said, appearing deep in thought.

They fell into a companionable silence after that, though when his mother decided to break it, she chose to do so by shattering it.

“What do _you_ want Gordie?”

“ _What_?” He squeaked, to his own mortification.

“We’ve been talking about me all night. But when we fought, you said you’d never wanted Circhester; so what do you want? Do you still wanna try the league challenge instead?”

“I’m sorry this is just all coming a little out of nowhere.” He laughed, though it was probably closer to the sound of prey that had been cornered. “I… guess I don’t know either. I don’t want to do the league challenge anymore, though. No.”

He’d… outgrown that wish years ago. Besides, he already tended towards using a single type of Pokémon in battle, the only way he had ever trained, which would put him at a disadvantage.

A disadvantage against loads of literal children. In a situation where he’d have to fight a bunch of the trainers he’d pissed off. And his mother.

How had that ever been a good idea to him in the first place?

“There is something I want.” He said suddenly.

“What is it?”

“I wanna know whether you asked me to take over Circhester because you genuinely thought it would be best for me, or because you’re sick of it but know your trainers would lose their spot in the majors without one of us.” He asked. “And don’t pretend you don’t know I wouldn’t have been able to turn it into a rock gym one day, not without making an enemy of the entire city anyway.”

“I admit I may have… oversimplified the process in my head.” She admitted. “Maybe I just didn’t want to be the one to upset them, it never felt like that to me, but I can’t pretend that I don’t get where you’re coming from.”

“Thank you.” He said, feeling petulant somehow, which made no sense considering she was validating their fight as not having just been a tantrum on his part. 

“Gordie, you would make an incredible gym leader, I know that much. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re a better trainer than me, which is all I can ask for as a mother, really.” She laughed. “But the truth is, I didn’t want you to form or join a gym that wasn’t mine. I still don’t want you to.”

That was typical of his mother, to finally provide a straight answer, only to have it confuse the situation far more.

“Why?” He asked.

“I just want to keep you safe, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Pokémon training isn’t exactly an extreme sport. I wouldn’t be in any danger going it alone.”

“It’s not _that_ sort of danger.” She argued. “Like I said, my first few years in the league were a nightmare, but after that… Well, Circhester felt safe to me like nowhere else in the world did. I told you, it was my bubble. I guess I’ve always wanted to keep you safe inside there too.”

“You never felt the need with the others.” He argued.

They’d barely set foot in the gym.

“That’s different! You _know_ they’ve lived very different lives to you. They have… they _had_ their dad, they have his family, and they have each other. They’ve grown up surrounded by people on their side. I was always scared you’d grow up alone because of my stubbornness.”

“We don’t have to be fighting in the same team for me to know you’re in my corner. Besides, I think the league is one battle I’d be able to take on myself.” He said.

“I know, but it doesn’t change how I feel! I don’t want you to go it alone, I know you’re talented enough to, but I’m still afraid. The thought of anyone hurting you _breaks_ me Gord.”

“What makes you so sure they would?”

“Because people are wankers! They’re awful. They see someone succeeding, and they try and tear them down to even the playing field… You’ve always been a sensitive soul, and I don’t want them to use that against you.”

A ‘sensitive soul’? Seemed like a pretty indulgent way of saying insecure to him, especially considering those insecurities were in large part born at Circhester gym, alongside their legacies.

Though the argument of which had come first, his training or his issues, could honestly go on forever.

Maybe it was worth letting that quandary go, if it finally meant doing something about it. Of course, doing something would probably involve wanting something, which he honestly wasn’t sure he did.

Well, except one thing.

“I wanna keep going with this work at Ballonlea, Opal is definitely up to something, and it’s infuriating me not knowing.” He admitted. “But afterwards… We can work from there, if you do wanna reach out to your parents I won’t stop you, but we don’t need their help. _I_ can help you, that’s something I want to do.”

It was easy to cross the distance then, to pull her into a hug, even if he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so. Neither of them wanted to let go, he could tell, as if physical distance may re-open the emotional chasm that had been separating them.

Eventually they had no choice, knowing that they had to go to sleep at some point, or risk setting a dangerous ‘no-bedtime’ precedent with the triplets, he thought sarcastically.

Still, things didn’t feel as hopeless or distant as they had earlier when they finally pulled apart.

His mom went to scoop up their drinks.

“I’ll wash them up, don’t worry about it.” He offered, grabbing the mugs.

“You sure?”

“Yep. I was the one who made you stay up the first place, after all.” He joked. “Night mom. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.” She said, giving him a peck on the cheek before returning to her room for the night. 

He scrubbed the mugs mindlessly, finding he didn’t want to drivel on about rings this time, even he was bored of his inner monologue.

Mostly, he wanted to sleep.

Making his way upstairs, the last one up in the house as he often remembered being, he looked around his surroundings. Observing the house that had been shaped around him, but never by him, even when he was here.

It was hard, without any basis for comparison, but he was sure that this wasn’t what home was meant to feel like.

Still, he’d seen so much more of the world now, was a different person himself in many ways. Maybe here could finally be home, for now at least.

While he finally figured out what it was that he wanted from his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I crossed 100k words now on minor characters from a game series about children using magical animals to fight one another? I feel that warrants some form of celebration or something hahaha.


	19. Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mother wants him to do what he wants, only problem is he'd doesn't know what that is.

Wanting was a complicated business.

Figuring out what you wanted was, anyway.

Gordie honestly couldn’t imagine what he wanted, beyond the near future. Sure, he could pick out the little things when he woke up each morning, what he wanted to wear (easier on uniform days), and what he wanted for breakfast (he was determined not to feel guilty over choices like that anymore), which train he wanted to catch to work.

But those were mostly meaningless decisions, leading you to the same end point, when you really thought about it.

It was an illusion of freedom.

He’d always lived that way until now, believing he was free, but stuck circling the same roads, weighing himself down pointlessly. Now all his avenues were open, supposedly, and the real world was… sheer space, overwhelming in its emptiness. 

Finally he was free to do anything he wanted; so it was typical really, there was nothing he wanted to do.

Lately it was easier to think of his choices in terms of refusing things he _didn’t_ want to do. After all, accepting those tasks had caused most of his problems in the first place.

That was the first rule of wanting things, in his experience.

Turned out that on some days though, even picking what he wanted to wear was too difficult.

Most of his clothes sort of straddled the line between being practical enough to move in, without actually being workout clothes.

Which was the cause of his current dilemma.

Because Gordie had resolved to go to an _actual_ gym, for people, not Pokémon training.

He had no bloody clue how he was meant to conduct himself, outfit included. It was a gymnastics gym, and all his research into the topic had ended up only talking about adolescent girls. 

Somehow, he couldn’t convince himself that grown men were expected to wear leotards too.

Honestly, he’d be perfectly content just looking like he wasn’t _completely_ clueless, turning up in stuff that wasn’t suitable for the type of workout. But what if he bought specialised work-out clothes and ended up looking like he was trying too hard? Like those people who would try for a week following new year’s resolutions, and then stuff everything to the back of the wardrobe to gather dust straight after.

He knew he was overthinking it, feeling like an idiot at his own inner turmoil. It wasn’t unreasonable to not want to look like an utter berk though.

His mother had been no help. Worse, his queries had led to a very awkward conversation, being taken aside after breakfast in a way that was far less subtle than she thought it was. Opal had a tendency of listening into at conversations like these, and Gordie hoped she was restraining herself, for the sake of his dignity.

She’d asked if he was trying to lose weight, probably remembering that she’d poured out her heart in talking about her past self-image issues and worried she had managed to trigger something in him. In spite of that, she’d started rambling about she would support him with whatever he wanted, though it was transparent that the thought of him being unhappy in his body hurt her.

For once he actually got it; the other night she’d basically held a mirror to his face during their conversation; viscerally understanding the feelings she’d mentioned, and though he wasn’t convinced he’d just been copying her, he was willing to acknowledge that it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities that he’d been influenced by it.

He didn’t want that for his siblings from him. Opal especially was reaching that age when stuff like that got _intense_ , and he wanted to try and be a good role model in the self-confidence respect, if he’d failed being one in every other sense.

Which was why he was doing this, he wasn’t trying to lose weight or anything, he just enjoyed throwing himself about, and he wanted the chance to explore it properly now that he had some time to do so, without gymnastics’ reputation for body bullying scare him off.

Really, he’d wanted to do this since he was about sixteen, starting to really withdraw from his training at Circhester but already to wrapped up in insecurity about his weight to just go for it, though he knew better to tell his mother that. Besides, it seemed silly now, considering he’d been pretty slim at the time. Well, relatively so for him anyway.

That didn’t matter anymore though. He was fed up with waiting for a better time to do the things he actually wanted to, or worse, imagining that he’d have to be a better version of himself to actually be able to succeed in them.

Still, in spite of all his grand intentions, he couldn’t stop second guessing himself as he got ready. He’d compromised; buying a pair of bottoms for the occasion, while opting to wear a top he’d already owned, both dark. It all fit fine, but the t-shirt sort of… not clung, but _stood out_ as it fell over his stomach, and no amount of tugging it loose was helping. 

_No clothes in the world would make him look the part_ , he thought, trying to dampen down a grimace as he watched himself in the bathroom mirror, resigning himself to defeat against his outfit.

Forcing his eyes upwards, he tried to focus on whatever positive thoughts he could muster towards himself. He looked more alive these days, he knew, no longer spending his time wallowing inside; the downside being of course that he was remembering that others would see him too.

The other day he’d even found time to re-dye his hair, which had prompted the older Opal to concede that the colour had ‘grown on her’.

Maybe she just felt sorry for him, but it felt like high praise none the less.

Overall, it was strange though, he looked far more normal than he’d expected. When he’d felt his lowest, he’d looked like shit too, and part of him had expected that something of that would have remained.

Like a scar of his misery.

Scooping his hair into a ponyta-tail, he resolved to quit with self-pity. Wasn’t that the entire point of him joining a gym, to see if he could feel at peace with his body for once?

Well, maybe that wasn’t it. Ironically, he was always able to feel comfortable in his body when he was actually using it. Usually it was when he got caught up imagining what everyone else thought about it that all his problems began. 

If he was really determined to free himself of old habits, facing that hang up head on seemed like a decent place to start. 

None of that stopped him feeling desperately lost once he’d actually found the place.

It was… big.

Which was sort of the whole point, he supposed, big and mostly empty so people had the room to do whatever they wanted.

Hence why he was struggling.

Beyond a little bit of trampolining in secondary school, Gordie had only ever worked on floor, usually hard ones at that, and had less than no clue what to do on any of the bars or vaults he could see dotted around.

Not that he trusted the bars in the first place, unconvinced they looked as sturdy as people were pretending as they propelled themselves around them.

It just wasn’t bloody happening.

There weren’t any Pokémon about, intentionally having searched for a gym that didn’t allow them, to reduce the chance of bumping into anyone involved in league training who could possibly recognise him. Still, the place looked wrong without any fighting types milling around like gyms on the TV.

On the floor, far across the room (once more very much by Gordie’s own design) there was a small group of people. He’d heard them before he’d seen them, only paying attention in the first place because of the ridiculous sounds of applause and praise. 

Though, he’d spent enough time in stadiums to differentiate the sounds from sincere cheering.

The group had a clear ringleader, a blond guy who proved that it really wouldn’t have mattered what Gordie wore by turning up shirtless. He was surrounded by handheld cameras and phones and leaning heavily into that. 

Gordie couldn’t be certain, but it looked like the man was being filmed by his own friends; they definitely weren’t professionals, he could tell that much. They were recording him loudly explaining what he was going to do next, followed by dramatically going on about how surprised he was he’d pulled it off every time he succeeded.

Honestly, Gordie wasn’t convinced by the performance.

The real question behind any of it, was why. 

It only got weirder the more he watched. Other people in the group started taking turns doing techniques, eventually including a guy who looked… inexperienced, to say the least, attempting a handspring; failing miserable and landing in a heap. 

That was exactly the sort of thing Gordie was afraid of happening to him, honestly. The guy was even around Gordie’s size, making it hit just that bit closer to home.

Any laughter was short lived however, quickly devolving into false reassurances over how he’d _nearly_ gotten there.

As far as Gordie was concerned, the patronising lies were worse than the laughter.

The guy it was directed at didn’t seem to agree, brushing off his failure and setting himself up to try again, seeming upbeat about it, considering.

All in front of those bloody cameras.

“Don’t know where to start? I get that it can be pretty overwhelming.” A woman’s voice said out of nowhere, before Gordie could see if he succeeded this time.

It was the damned springy floor that did it, hiding the noise of footsteps but emphasizing his own movements, movements that definitely _weren’t_ him jumping out of his skin in shock.

Making him look like a bloody idiot.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to surprise you. I’m Larissa, one of the coaches here.” The intruder said, pointing at the emblem on her shirt as if to prove she belonged here.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, furtively checking for ‘no loitering’ signs.

“No, nothing’s wrong!” She laughed. “To be honest, I came over because I have a sneaky feeling it’s your first time here.”

“That obvious?” He asked, not even bothering to hide it.

“Well, you’re alone and you’ve been stood here looking a _little_ bit like a Girafarig foal since you walked in. So, yeah.” She answered, cheerfully enough considering how pathetic it must seem. 

“I was just… watching.” He tried, lamely.

The strange woman, she’d called herself Larissa he reminded himself, followed his eyes over to the group with the cameras.

“Don’t mind the shirtless wonder.” She said dryly. “He’s harmless, but if he tries to get you on video don’t indulge him.”

“Why is he filming?”

“Good question.” She laughed. “If you come again, you’ll probably start noticing an interchangeable group of guys who are all convinced they’re gonna become the next big gym vlogging sensation. That specific guy is called Charles, but if you ask he’ll say it’s ‘Chazza’.”

“ _Chazza_?” Gordie asked, incredulously. 

“Like Hazza, but somehow _worse_.” She whispered conspiratorially.

He laughed a little at that, in spite of his attempts at good manners.

Though, even if the guy was a tosser like he sounded, his talent was undeniable.

And deeply enviable.

“How did he get the 360° twist on his backflip? I can’t figure it out.” Gordie broached, embarrassed to ask for help, but figuring that was literally what Larissa was here for.

“Oh that’s a back full, it might be a little… ah, ambitious, though.” She explained.

There it was again, that look, a swarm of silent judgement. He wasn’t an idiot, anyone with eyes would be able to see that Gordie was over twice the size of that blond bloke, and hardly built like a gymnast. Really, he didn’t even blame her for her caution; she was even being more polite about it than he’d imagined people would be. 

Knowing all that didn’t stop it getting under his skin though.

“I’m part-way there.” He said, feeling the need to defend himself against her unspoken doubt.

“What’s the part you’re struggling with?” She asked, more sincerely than he’d expected.

He bristled at ‘struggling’, even though rationally he knew that was a perfectly sensible way to describe it. Gordie just resented the phrasing was all.

“I can’t get past 180°, front or backflipping.” He explained, neglecting to mention that he’d only managed a perfect Barani on a bouncy castle.

It just wouldn’t give the right impression was all.

To her credit, she didn’t look at him as if he was a liar (which he sort of _was_ ), apparently willing to entertain the idea that he might be capable of it.

Granted, it did just make what followed even riskier. 

“Alright, why don’t you show me how you do a half, maybe try a full too, and I’ll give you some pointers if you’d like?” She suggested.

Bugger. Better make sure he could actually pull it off on the floor now, after responding so defensively like that. Though, he’d felt like he had grasped it pretty well the other day, and this was bouncy, as floors went.

There was literally nothing he’d gain from not trying, except sparing his dignity.

If he even had any in the first place.

“Alright.”

Gordie shifted his weight between his feet, bouncing to get a feel for the springiness of the floor.

Then he ran into his launch. 

It was over before he could really overthink it.

But he was on his feet, which was a good sign.

He rearranged his clothes, self-consciously tugging his t-shirt hem and adjusting the bottoms, making sure nothing had ridden up or down while he was in the air. 

“Great! Do you wanna try the full now?” Larissa asked.

Not really, no.

Because if he did he was gonna crumple miserably in front of everyone. He knew it was narcissistic, this paranoia that strangers would waste their time watching him fall when they were paying to be here in the first place. But old habits die hard.

Except, the problem was they didn’t die at all, really.

But if that random guy could fail in front of his friend, when cameras were involved, then why the fuck couldn’t Gordie even try in front of a stranger who he would never have to see again, if he chose not to?

Maybe that was the second rule of wanting things, he reflected, determining when you’re saying you don’t want something because you’re too afraid of what will happen if you don’t get it.

What would happen if he didn’t get this? He’d fall on a fairly soft surface? In front of someone who probably sees people mess up countless times every day?

Arceus knew he’d had worse falls, and worse humiliations.

He’d live.

Repeating that like a mantra to himself, he made the run to attempt it, whipping his hips around as he launched.

It verged on indescribably, how fast it felt as he spun.

The ground somehow came even faster than that however.

Faster and with _great_ force.

_Just fantastic._

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m getting the impression you’re self-taught.” Was all the coach said, watching him pick himself up off the floor.

At least she wasn’t bloody laughing.

“Er, yeah. With a loose definition of taught.” He admitted. “So any pointers?”

Alright, maybe he was being a bit sarcastic about it, asking mostly to distract himself from checking if anyone else had seen what he was sure was a spectacular spill on his part.

She answered as though he’d been sincere. 

“You’re copying the technique you learnt for your half, and trying to just push it further for your full. That’s never gonna work properly, _but…_ the good news is I reckon you’ve got the basics down to try doing it the right way. You up for that?” She asked.

“I know I’m not a professional, and I’m definitely not trying to be.” He began cautiously. “But if you think it’s do-able for a novice, I’m willing to try.”

“Anything is achievable… but it _is_ a little complicated.” She said. “How much do you know about the mechanics of twisting?”

Absolutely nothing.

He admitted as much, earning him an explanation of sorts on why he shouldn’t be using a ‘Skitty twist’ for a full, which was apparently something he was doing despite having never heard of one before today.

Instead he was meant to trust the laws of physics to help him achieve efficient tilting, which was difficult considering he was already convinced that they were wrong about bouncy castles. What was to say any of this would work for him?

It certainly wasn’t working the first one hundred or so times he tried, as far as he was concerned. In fact, it felt as though he’d never fallen quite as much as he was today; sure that he was gonna find some interesting bruises despite the trampoline Larissa had dragged him onto.

“Do you have a background in competitive sports?” She asked, after yet another failure.

“Do I look like I could be competitive in _any_ sport?” He replied sharply, tugging his t-shirt down again. 

Maybe, just _maybe_ , he was feeling a touch more short-tempered than usual because the question felt patronising, considering he’d just fallen on his arse.

_Again._

She just snorted derisively at his tone, though he still ought to apologise, he knew.

“Hey, I’m not making any assumptions.” She said, shrugging lazily. “Besides, I’ve seen self-taught guys with much worse habits… You just _kinda_ treat every tiny set-back like it’s the most catastrophic thing that’s ever happened.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I know a kid who was pushed into sports when I see one.” She said, almost smugly.

She wasn’t _entirely_ wrong, he mused.

“It’s not really a sport… but I used to train Pokémon competitively.” He finally conceded. 

“Oh, _that_ explains it. You guys are all super dramatic.” She laughed.

“We are not!” He argued, shriller than he’d hoped for.

Once more, she chose not to dignify that with a response beyond a dismissive glance. 

Was that a pervading stereotype about Pokémon trainers?

Well, he _did_ run away from the entire region for two years the last time he lost to his mother, not to mention that pretty much every match, even random ones in public, put money and pride on the line.

Potentially, she had a point upon reflection.

“I’m sorry… You’re probably right.” He admitted. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you, I know you’re just trying to help.”

“It’s alright, people throw worse at me. I think you should just remember though, literally _no one_ cares if you manage this or not. I mean, I’m rooting for you, because I’m payed to; but I’m not gonna lose sleep over it or anything.”

“Thanks.” He said dryly.

Honestly, he appreciated the sentiment; knowing that the indifference of it was the whole point. No one being overly invested in your success meant that you weren’t disappointing people when you failed. That was... nice, being allowed to mess up, instead of the being the crux of your team’s (and mom’s) hopes.

“Do you do professional gymnastics?” He asked her in return, figuring her observations probably came from personal experience.

She had the look for it, smaller than his mother but taller than Opal, and kind of… _stocky_ , in that compact sort of way gymnasts on the TV tended to be. He hoped the question wasn’t invasive, though she’d seemed happy enough to ask him similar stuff. 

“Once upon a time. Technically. I was never famous though, didn’t win enough that you’d have heard of me.” She answered.

Guess that made two of them then.

“I think that’s probably a blessing in disguise.” He said. “Having the ability to go back to living normally once it’s all done.”

He’d definitely come to appreciate it, when compared to his mother’s fame.

“Well you know… those who can’t, teach.” Larissa said sardonically, motioning around the gym.

Gordie wondered what she’d think if she knew he’d never been allowed to compete for himself, had been railroaded straight into teaching. Of course, running a Pokémon gym was plenty competitive, it was hardly the same.

Still, somehow he thought he could hear some of the familiar wistfulness in her voice, though it may have just been his imagination.

“Well, I’m thankful right now that you’re teaching, even if I’m sure the sport lost a great competitor.” He said.

Something told him that she’d want to hear that, even if he wondered where it had come from.

“Flatterer.” She said, looking amused despite her tone.

Then she sobered.

“But I gotta be brutally honest in return; I don’t think you’ll be able to master a full twist without polishing your basics a little. I get that you don’t want to be competition standard, but you’re relying on too much on power right now because your technique is inefficient.” She explained.

She was polite enough to not mention that Gordie was already using a lot of extra power manoeuvring what had to be at least five stone more than most the guys here. 

He still furtively checked his t-shirt hadn’t ridden up, and wrapped his arms around his knees from his position sat on the trampoline, as if that could make him smaller.

“I figured it would end up being something tricky like that.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “You reckon I should try classes or something? I know you’ve got loads of other people here to help, rather than just babysitting me.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Most people come here with friends… they’re pretty set.”

“Well I don’t have friends who are into this stuff.”

Mostly, because, he didn’t really _have_ friends, but that seemed like semantics. And also oversharing more so than he already had.

“Lucky you, you’re in exactly the right place to make some. I don’t mind showing you through some drills for your first visit though. Babysitting fills the time.”

‘Drills’ turned out to be a lot of him intentionally face-planting onto the trampoline, though he must have been doing something right, because she seemed pleased with his progress, laughing when he explained that most of his trampolining knowledge was just retained from school. 

“I’m surprised, most beginners are afraid of hitting the ground.” She said.

“That I actually _do_ have experience with.” He joked, though it was probably lost on her.

Because really, how many children spent almost every day in a stadium full of pitfalls? She was surprised by how well he controlled his body in space, but Gordie was willing to bet a lifetime of plunging into those familiar icy depths had a large part in that.

It was… a productive day, and enjoyable. Though he was certain he’d pay for it tomorrow, especially considering he’d agreed to take the triplets out to train Pokémon, the price of Platty’s forgiveness for the fact that these sessions were only open to ages sixteen and over.

“Alright, I reckon you’re done for now.” Larissa declared, by which point he was drenched from his efforts. “But I’m not gonna let you languish alone, go make some friends.”

“I will! I’m just… not very good at it.” He admitted.

Once you’d fallen on your face and arse around someone as many time as Gordie had today, there weren’t really that many pathetic things you had left to hide.

“Don’t worry. I know a _really_ friendly guy here.”

There was something devious in her expression then.

But she _wouldn’t_.

“Hey Chazza!” She yelled.

Apparently, she would.

How could someone he’d met only a few hours ago have betrayed him so deeply?

“Whatever I’ve been accused of, it was the other guy’s fault.” Someone (‘Chazza’ he could only presume) responded, making his way over.

Unfortunately, it was the guy from earlier; still shirtless, probably so he could flex on people figuratively _and_ literally.

“I’m not telling you off for anything!” She laughed. “I just wanted you to meet someone.”

Gordie could feel the man’s eyes raking over him, he suddenly felt far sweatier from the drills and knew he probably looked like a puffy, pink mess, unsure how he’d managed to put that out of his mind until now.

“This is Gordie, he’s new here.” Larissa introduced him on his behalf.

“Oh, _nice_. I’m Chazza, this is Ronnie and this mad lad is Dubois.” He said, motioning to his friends, following behind even though they hadn’t been called over.

Gordie didn’t ask what exactly made him a ‘mad lad’ or point out that literally none of those sounded convincingly like their actual names. Again, the latter was one of those pot kettle black situations, he was well aware. 

The guy from earlier he’d seen fall wasn’t there, and it suddenly struck Gordie that he’d probably just been a random attendee, who must have been willing to try and handspring on camera for someone who was potentially a stranger to him.

 _Was that admirable or just stupid_ , he wondered. 

“Gordie’s a tricker like you, but I’m hopeful I can teach how to do things _properly_. I know how much you love being bad influences on people though.” Larissa said.

Chazza just laughed, clearly getting some joke that Gordie didn’t. He tried not to let it get to him, sure he’d pick up on the lingo eventually.

“Got any tricks you wanna show us?” He asked Gordie, with that sort of overly enthusiastic attempt at sincerity he’d used on the guy who fell earlier.

It _really_ got under Gordie’s skin.

“He’s been practicing layouts on the tramp for ages, don’t try and make him do the floor.” Larissa cut in.

“Nah, it’s fine. I feel energetic enough to give another one a try.” Gordie argued.

What could he say? No one had ever accused him of lacking competitive spirit.

Besides, he figured it might not make Larissa overly pleased, but if he put a little more power into his launch from the ground, he’d have plenty of time for a layout.

He hoped.

“Okay, but _this_ I’ve gotta get on video.” Chazza said, just short of goading.

The others in the group were watching Larissa, surprising considering she was the only one not making dramatic declarations, but Gordie thought he understood why.

She’d introduced them, the others were just trying to figure out who the joke in her doing so was at the expense of.

Even Gordie wasn’t paranoid enough to believe this had been some elaborate ploy to humiliate him though, knowing she’d warned him not to indulge the guys with cameras.

Not that it mattered.

Because he was gonna pull this off. 

“Fine, but no uploading if I crash and burn.” He joked, trying to diffuse the tension before he started.

“Deal.” Chazza laughed.

Making his way to a free stretch of the floor space, Gordie readied himself, trying to steady his breathing.

He’d not directly tried this on the floor, no, but he’d spent years doing handsprings into tucked back flips so he felt decently confident that he could get the height; it was just keeping the shape that was the challenge, more than sure he could manage the rotation. 

Didn’t stop his limbs feeling as wobbly as a ditto while he took off, starting to feel the fatigue after all.

His only focus in the air was the line of his body, Larissa having told him to make it straighter the entire time he’d been on the trampoline. It was definitely easier said than done, only so far he could tense his glutes and core, but it was about time he’d made use of a lifetime of falling experience.

He fought not to bend his legs, combatting the irrational fear that he’d batter his knees on the landing otherwise.

They felt alright as he landed, to his pleasant surprise, but the floor beneath him shuddered and he knew he’d pushed too hard on the launch, struggling not to overbalance.

But he wouldn’t let himself fall.

He doubted it had been graceful, or perfect technically, but he’d managed it.

The hollering filtered into his ears slowly, as the rushing of his own blood retreated, sounding loud considering it was only the three of them.

The manoeuvre wasn’t nearly as difficult as what he’d seen them pulling off, but Gordie could tell they were impressed, even if they’d been cheering for literally everyone they’d filmed today.

Maybe they just saw him as a bit of a novelty, moving like that at his size. That was alright though, novelties wore off.

Better that than a failure.

He just sort of numbly accepted their congratulations.

“I’m surprised.” Larissa told him, cutting through the static.

“I know I didn’t do it properly.” He defended. “I’m tired. I was just doing it to prove a point.”

“No, you did well! Don’t put yourself down. I meant that you _do_ enjoy an audience after all.”

Oh, Right.

That.

He found himself groaning, almost involuntarily.

Oddly enough, considering his fixation on it the rest of time, he was able to forget about the people watching whenever he got properly into whatever he was doing, something he’d noticed in his… less traumatic Pokémon battles, and was glad apparently applied to something as inherently physical as gymnastics too.

It would all come rushing back once the adrenaline had retreated however. He couldn’t imagine how many followers Chazza actually had, but it wasn’t worth taking the risk of him uploading footage of Gordie, any number guaranteed to be a bigger audience than he’d bargained for.

“Look, I know it’s gonna sound weird, but can you not use that footage? I’m trying to stay off… everything.” Gordie admitted to him after everything had calmed a little. 

“Okay, you kinda sound like a fugitive.” Chazza laughed. “But of course man! No way would I upload something like that if you weren’t cool with it. Do you want me to send you the footage though?”

“That... would be nice actually. Thanks.”

Gordie found himself almost in shock how easy that had been.

Turned out that Chazza wasn’t such a bad guy after all, if a little over-zealous and false whenever he was on camera. 

Gordie just sort of distrusted extroverts by nature, even though he’d just exchanged phone numbers with one after knowing him for all of ten minutes. 

Still, when a message with the video came through a couple of hours later, he decided it had been worth it. 

The next morning, when he was feeling the after effects, he was less certain however, almost cancelling his training with the triplets altogether.

Except, his mother was going to use the quiet to time to work on a letter to her parents and Gordie knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her when it came to something that meant as much to her as this.

Plus, he probably owed it them. Somehow he’d made the dire mistake of showing the video of his layout to his family, which was mostly a problem in the respect that it made his mother go on about how she was worried about his knees, as if a little double-jointedness had ever slowed anyone down. (Granted, they probably shouldn’t have extended _quite_ as far as they had on the landing, upon watching it back.)

Perhaps more importantly though, it had made Platty jealous.

Viciously so.

Worse, he’d somehow been spurred on from seeing how knackered Gordie looked today, rather than discouraged by it like a normal person.

Kids were weird.

But sort of adorable, Gordie reflected, managing to be so even when they were being little gits.

Case in point, Platty’s current strop.

Apparently his brother wasn’t offended enough that Gordie had done something cool without him to not accompany him, Mondy and Pearl while they went training today, but he was still determined to make his feelings known, weaponizing his silence.

And his little pout.

It shouldn’t have been as cute as it was, and Gordie knew it had to be a sign he was getting old that he was starting to find it endearing; that kids and their fury were no longer life-sized.

Even if he felt bad just thinking it, Platty’s strop wasn’t such a bad thing. He’d noticed more and more lately that Platty tended to overpower his siblings’ presence, poor Mondy especially; though, whether this was a recent development or something he’d started noticing because of his own time feeling a little more quiet than usual, he couldn’t say.

Right now, Platty’s sudden turn towards reticence was giving the others a chance to talk, and granting Gordie the opportunity to properly check in with their Pokémon too.

They’d chosen the right Pokémon, he mused, or the right Pokémon had chosen _them_ , depending on how you were inclined to look at it. It had been obvious since the moment he’d come home, that fire inside of Platty, and he hadn’t been surprised when he’d gravitated towards Torchic.

Honestly, it was because that had been so pronounced that Gordie hadn’t really taken the time to understand why the other pair had chosen the way they had. 

But he could see it.

Mondy was… a little more reserved, less assured than his siblings; a bud getting ready to sprout, often razed by his brother’s enthusiasm. Which left Pearl in the middle he supposed, more flexible to changes in her brothers’ moods and demeanour, and closer to both of them than either was to the other.

That would serve her well if it carried on as they grew up. Gordie knew you couldn’t underestimate the action of water, it never needed to resist it’s obstacles to end up on top, flowing and eroding regardless of what you put in its path.

It was Mondy he was worried about, well, maybe not worried… but mindful of. Gordie was cognizant of the perils of being forced to grow up in the shadow of an overpowering presence, and he wanted to help his little brother find the space to flourish, without being drowned out by Platty and Pearl.

Though he hadn’t yet figured out how to teach Mondy that sort of thing without cutting Platty out and hurting his feelings, balancing family relationships being a trickier business than he’d signed up for.

Gordie had been thinking a lot about his approach towards teaching since yesterday, surprised how easy it had been to fall into the role of a learner again, given how much he’d grown to resent it by the end. Even Larissa had noticed, joking how unlike most men, Gordie could follow instructions.

He’d laughed at the time, though he’d known she wouldn’t really get why that was, without knowing exactly who Gordie’s _last coach_ had been. Really, he wasn’t sure if it was even funny in the first place.

It had never been a secret to anyone that Gordie had been eager to please back in Circhester, long having connected his mother’s pride in him as a trainer to her love for him as a son. Though somehow, somewhere down the line, that had bled over into everything he did, fostering a perfectionism in him that he’d taken too long to realise ventured into destructive territory.

Probably why he got so vile to be around every time he failed in something.

There was something almost therapeutic about it now though, going back to being coached after he’d done so much of the opposite, making him notice little things that he wouldn’t have before.

Making him wonder how he could have done things better.

Not that he was ever going back to gym leading, of course. But there was nothing stopping him from taking what he had learnt yesterday (and would hopefully continue to learn) to try and encourage the triplets while he helped them train.

Besides proper gymnastics teaching usually started with kids their age anyway, there must be something in the drill style that they responded well to.

Gordie was determined to find it.

Finally, they reached their training destination, one of the clearings in the wood he’d found back when he’d first started trying out walks to make himself feel better.

It wasn’t the one where he’d released his Pokémon, but he still found himself looking around as if they’d show up again. 

They didn’t.

“You never use that one! Is he weak?” Platty asked, unable to resist piping up when Gordie brough out Pupitar for training.

Little shit.

“It’s not that, Pupitar is just young… he’s still growing.” Gordie explained, feeling surprisingly defensive considering Pupitar wouldn’t understand that he’d been insulted.

“Has he gotta evolve first?”

“Yep, he does! Do you know what Pupitars evolve into?” Gordie asked.

None of them seemed to, which made sense considering their cultural knowledge of Pokémon was based almost solely on the matches they saw on TV, and no rock gyms or dark gyms televised their matches. 

“They evolve into Tyranitars! Big, tough, cool Tyranitars.” He said, dramatically scooping his arms, as if he were one, causing them to dissolve into giggles.

“So he’s gonna be really strong then?”

“Definitely. Pupitar is already very strong though.” He assured them.

“Why doesn’t he look like Tyranitar? Larvitar does.” Pearl asked.

Maybe that was why they hadn’t realised he was part of that evolution chain, Gordie realised. Because it didn’t fit in with the little bits they did know about Tyranitar.

“That’s not his body.” Gordie explained. “He’s staying inside of a shell while he’s growing.”

“What does he really look like then?” Mondy asked.

“Hmmmm.” Gordie pretended to deliberate. “I suppose he looks different every day, kind of like you guys getting taller every time I see you.”

“Could you take the shell off?”

“No, I don’t think so. There’s no need though, Tyranitar will come out when he’s ready.”

He hoped that for Mondy, that he could emerge from his shell one day, brave like a Tyranitar.

Maybe he wanted it for himself too.

They seemed to respect their sparring partner (more of a punchbag, really) once Gordie had explained why he wasn’t like his other Pokémon, not kicking up any further fuss about it.

It was time to try out his version of a drill, making them repeatedly try out smaller bits of battling so they could understand the principles underpinning it.

Todays lesson was on type advantages and disadvantages, something that got on Platty’s nerves when he realised that he was the only one who’s Pokémon was weak against Gordie’s, instead of strong. 

Though he’d cheered up once Gordie convinced him it was good to have the extra challenge, that the best trainers never let type advantage stop them.

He used a story Opal had told him, of the Championship final she’d lost despite the fact she’d had type advantage. Though he missed out the part where that champion then abandoned his responsibilities, ran off to an island and married a woman under half his age.

As well as some of Opal’s more… creative insults towards the man for the latter two. 

It worked, though it also may have accidentally converted his brother to fighting types, something Gordie could already tell would bode _very_ badly for him one day.

He tried to focus on Mondy right now, who for once had the advantage over Platty because of his grass-type, rather than forced to be on the back foot against an already overwhelming effort from his brother.

It was alright actually.

Though, their general attention span still wasn’t fantastic, his siblings or their Pokémon. Right now the point was in large part supposed to just have fun anyway, helping them bond with their Pokémon while they were still at the age where it was easy to do so.

It was harder for adults, to accept that sort of unconditional love from a Pokémon, they were too wrapped up in their own struggles, and they knew that none of them could actually deserve that bond in the first place.

Still, it was a cute sight and he was surprised to find himself feeling wistful that his mother wasn’t here, that Opal had refused to train with any of them, or even Gordie alone, claiming that she wanted to find a group of people her own age to train with.

That was something he respected her for though, even if it hurt a little too. She was taking the initiative to avoid the patterns he and his mother had fallen into training over the years, even if she had to dive into the unknown to do so. 

By the time they were ready to go home, Platty had apparently forgiven him, trying to climb on already sore shoulders and settling for holding his hand, until he’d decided that he wanted to be independent and run off ahead (though Gordie had sent Barbaracle with him, trusting his brother would be safe as long as they were together.)

Honestly, he’d enjoyed teaching again, after his… little break.

He tried not to think on what that meant, in terms of what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel mean whenever I write Gordie feeling insecure, but then I remember that 'fat guy fails' compilation videos are a real thing all over the internet, and that self-esteem doesn't exist in a vacuum so it's hard to be confident in yourself doing such a physical thing where you're bound to fall loads, when a lot of people would laugh at you especially hard for it. He'll get there eventually, I promise. 
> 
> This was another chapter that I struggled to get out, sorry if it feels disconnected from the main story - Gordie is still at a point where he feels disconnected from his life too. 
> 
> Also I realised that words like 'ponytail' and 'cat twists' just flat out... shouldn't exist in this universe? I can't remember if the ponytail hairs are called that in game though haha.


	20. The process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you wait too long, you'll often find that the choices are taken from you.

There was meant to be a trick to this, he knew.

This twice damned spinning malarkey he was half convinced wasn’t real.

“You’re making it harder for yourself.”

That sounded beyond familiar at this point, Larissa fond of the idea that Gordie was his own worst enemy.

Apparently appeased by his layouts and other basics, they were finally focusing on the twisting aspect of the backflip full twist. Which was causing so many problems that he’d practically forgotten how to do a half twist in the first place.

“Alright so what should I do instead?” He asked frustratedly.

“Go slower. You’re getting ahead of your rotation by twisting as you push off, but you need to drop your arms in the correct plane, otherwise it’s pointless. You’d be basically cancelling out any extra rotation you’re creating.”

The ‘planes’ were tilt planes, though the way she spoke about them was so bloody elusive and vague he wouldn’t have been surprised if they were separate planes of reality.

“Okay but how am I meant to be in the right plane when it apparently keeps changing?”

“It’s hard, I know, but you’ve got to trust the process. You’ll get the sense for positioning your arms with practice.”

How could he practice when he was practicing it wrong?

How could he ‘trust the process’ when he couldn’t even see what ‘process’ was meant to be doing the movement for him?

“It feels like I’m not doing anything though.” He explained.

“I get it, it seems _too_ easy.” She laughed. “But cut yourself a break, you’re already doing all the hard work with your sault. You’ve created the rotational energy, as long as you’re asymmetrical, the rest will take care of itself.”

She was fond of that idea too, that once you were set-up properly, the work would do itself. Gordie had never known anything in life to be that clean or simple though.

“Then why do I have to keep changing where I drop my arms?”

“Because you’re not straight on and it’s shortening your levers! It’s simple mechanics Gordie.”

“Sorry I didn’t think to take GCSE PE.” He muttered darkly.

“Don’t get snippy. You have the entire internet at your disposal, look it up.” She rebutted, apparently having caught it.

Thankfully, she offered an explanation as an olive branch.

“Look, basic premise is, you always try and drop your arm perpendicular, because that’s when it’s at its longest. Longer lever means more power, more power means more twist. But if you’re mid-twist, then the position your arm is at its longest at has changed. That’s then the correct plane. ” She said.

“Right… I get that, I think. But why is no one else pretending their arms are propellers?”

She paused then, watching him searchingly.

“Wait. Are you being pissy because you’re scared you look silly doing this?” She asked, sounding _very_ amused.

“No!” He argued.

He wasn’t ‘being pissy’, even if he definitely looked like an idiot practising.

“Well, I don’t actually see _anyone_ else here drilling their twists. So I don’t know where your frame of reference is coming from.”

“I’ve just… seen people doing it differently.”

He hoped he hadn’t given too much away, not shown his filthy guilt on his face.

But again, that damned look.

Was Gordie truly that much of an open book?

“You watched Charlie’s videos didn’t you?” She asked.

It took him a second to make the connection, Larissa apparently unable to bring herself to call him Chazza when he wasn’t around to hear.

“I may have watched… a couple.” Gordie admitted.

The man’s delivery may have been nigh on unbearable, but he was impressive when he was actually pulling the manoeuvres off, and his explanations tended to be simpler than Larissa’s.

Though he’d gotten the impression she didn’t think all that highly of them.

“The thing is… Charlie is lazy. He knows his technique isn’t polished, but he doesn’t care. He’s doing it for fun, not competitions, I get it. But I think if something is worth learning, it’s worth learning right.”

Gordie wasn’t inclined to disagree, hating when people had tried to half-arse things back at Circhester.

“I get it. You’re right, I was the one who said I wanted to learn. I just… get frustrated, when I’m not able to figure out where I’m going wrong, or why I’m doing something.”

Pokémon training had always come… somewhat naturally to him, though ice types hadn’t come as naturally as rock types had; and before now he’d only really attempted stuff like cartwheels and flips using techniques that had seemed intuitive to him. 

“I think that’s just human nature, but I promise, I wouldn’t be putting you through this if I didn’t think this was a better way for you to learn… Otherwise I would have dumped you on Charlie the first time we met.” She laughed.

“You don’t think I’m cut out to be a hardcore tricker like Chazza?” He joked, trying to imitate the way he delivered lines in his videos.

Larissa was smirking at his impression, even if she tried to push it down.

She’d already made it clear she didn’t think that sort of free runner style was right for him, even if he had the leg power for it.

Since the second session (probably reassured he hadn’t been scared off) she’d been testing boundaries in talking to him about his ‘higher inertia’, arguably the strangest method of being called fat anyone had ever directed at him. It wasn’t like she was being mean about it though… just honest, trying to factor it into positions she was taught with much smaller bodies as examples, and considering the extra force on his landings from it.

The latter had gotten worse once he’d let slip that his knees were double-jointed. Apparently, just like his mother, Larissa was intent on ignoring the fact that it was super common and had never caused him proper trouble thus far. He’d gotten a very lengthy lecture over how many girls in her class had fucked up their knees through training because they were hypermobile and not taking care of their joints properly, before making him demonstrate a bunch of stretches and exercises for his knees to ensure he could do them properly.

Honestly, all that was fine; though he _was_ glad he hadn’t mentioned his hips were the same. It was surprising how easy it was to talk about his body with an almost stranger, if only in a purely mechanical sense. It was… nice, that it didn’t need to be this big thing (no pun intended).

He was still a little anxious that she was just waiting for the point to say he was limiting himself through his weight though, that he clearly didn’t care enough if he wasn’t losing any.

Still, it was pointless to not enjoy himself now because of something that may or may not come up in the future. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get caught up in stuff like that anymore.

“I’m sorry if this feels slower than people you see in tutorials, or if I seem like a harsh teacher.”

“You’re not harsh. Believe me, I’ve had harsh coaches.”

He _was_ a harsh coach, for Arceus’ sake.

Or rather, he had been, he corrected.

“You’re a great coach, I’m just a shitty student if I don’t get stuff straight away. “ He finished.

“Oh lay off! Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

They were both laughing at that, even if Gordie hadn’t meant for it to come across that way.

“People who learn each thing individually might seem like they pick it up faster sometimes, but I’m trying to lay down a strong foundation so picking up more complex skills is easier in the future.” Larissa explained.

“Okay, so I might be a slow growth Pokémon, but in the end they’re fluctuating ones instead?”

“Um, maybe? I don’t really know the difference. But it’s not a race Gordie, it’s not even a contest remember? You want to do this for you, because you enjoy it.”

“I know, I know. My competitiveness is a blight on my life.” He said sardonically.

Not that the sentiment was _wrong_ , necessarily.

That session she’d left him ruminating on her explanations, having basically told him that sometimes he had to trust that if he’d set himself up right, the rest was just going to happen, with or without further input on his part.

He found himself thinking about that a lot after he’d left, that evening and in the days that followed.

Because there was meant to be a trick to this as well.

_This._

This strange situation where half his family had managed to get into position, but it seemed like nothing was happening, no external force making it any easier for them.

It probably didn’t help his dwelling thoughts that it was always the day after the gym where he’d take the others out training. That was also the biggest chunk of time where his mother would ostensibly work on the letter to her parents.

They always cycled into the city first. Or rather, the triplets cycled and he and Opal walked, keeping a close eye on them the entire way.

Gordie made sure they always set off early, so they had time to grab ice-creams first (glad that Circhester didn’t fall for the rest of the world’s hearsay that it had to be warm to enjoy them) picking them up from the stall near the club Opal had chosen.

It had been difficult, more so than he’d expected, to find one that would accept her even though she was using a Dratini, most places aiming at teaching trainers who may eventually compete in the league. He was glad that none of the Pokémon he’d given his siblings were league legal, to spare them that sort of crushing pressure so young, if nothing else.

Once she was inside safe and sound, the real fun began.

Well, it was fun for the little ones, not sure he’d necessarily agree himself.

Because that was when he agreed to start letting them ride _properly_ to their next stop, a little park he’d found in the centre of town, perfectly fit for purpose. Of course, that meant that he had to keep a decent pace running to not entirely lose them, though they enjoyed circling around him sometimes like a flock of Mandibuzz. It was safer than doing it in the outskirts, he knew, only resisting so far because of his own aversion to the city centre.

So long as he was focusing on keeping the triplets in a safe range, it was easy to ignore that there were other people on the streets who could see the spectacle of him jogging.

Not that he ever dwelled on it too long once he was there and actually coaching the little ones through things; almost forgetting that, in theory, he could bump into literally anyone else he’d led (and betrayed), or trained alongside (and also betrayed) while he was there.

At first he’d dreaded the thought, but now he sometimes caught himself thinking it would at least push something forward.

Clearly neither he nor his mother were ready to do so otherwise.

According to her, she just hadn’t been able to find the right words for her letter yet, though she always refused to let him read any of what she’d written. He found it more likely that it wasn’t the words themselves, not really anyway.

Because knowing what to say was very different to actually being able too, after over two decades of hurt had become a chasm between you.

Gordie couldn’t exactly _blame_ her for her delay.

He just kept hoping they’d find the trick that would solve all of it, somehow.

But it turned out Larissa was right too, sometimes things did just happen, and you had no choice but to let them.

Now, Gordie didn’t believe in destiny. The idea felt… contrived and was usually only brought up when someone wanted an easy answer to a more loaded question. 

He was, however, willing to concede that sometimes when you were dragging your heels, a well-timed coincidence could be just the kick up the arse you needed to get into gear. Something he wasn’t sure whether to think of as a blessing or a curse, to be honest. 

Of course, there was absolutely no bloody chance that Larissa had been talking about a haunted cup of tea when she’d given that spiel.

That was more of a thing that could only happen to his family, to be honest. 

Because Opal’s patrol had apparently finally turned up whatever she’d been looking for.

Failing to hide her excitement, she took off towards the dynamax in the heart of the woods, with surprising speed considering she’d been chewing him out as being careless for climbing trees not even five minutes ago. 

Hypocrite. 

Still, the thought of potentially figuring out what she had really been after this whole time was enough to have him matching her for enthusiasm. Though, once faced with a ghost type Pokémon part of him wished his Pupitar would just evolve already, despite what he’d said to the triplets about waiting until he was ready. 

He went to bring out Coalossal instead, knowing the big guy had been more that powerful enough to take on the dynamaxes before. 

Except, when he reached for the ball his fingers went near Frosmoth’s, not even touching, yet the sudden chill that swept over him was like ice in his veins; pure dread. He felt almost sick, tasting bile in the back of his throat. Something gripped his stomach, now roiling with guilt, though he couldn’t begin to imagine what it was over.

It felt like when he’d let Frosty’s other teammates go, and he really hoped he wasn’t crying again, unsure what how he could possible explain it to Opal if he was. He couldn’t even understand it himself.

The lights of the forests looked different somehow, like the fluorescence was a cry of danger, of something poisonous that should be avoided at all costs.

Part of him knew he was being asked to leave.

But he couldn’t, he’d said he would see this through.

He clumsily grasped for any ball he could, distantly surprised to see Frosty come out.

Something told him he should have expected it though.

Then the feeling stopped, and he felt numb. Like coming in from the cold with fingers that wouldn’t move until they were warmed, only it was his brain instead. 

The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than an instant, Opal’s Alcremie emerging almost simultaneously, but he felt… drained before the fight had even begun. Thankfully, Opal didn’t do anything that suggested she’d witnessed any of Gordie’s bizarre turmoil transpiring. 

He wasn’t sure it was necessarily resolved either.

Looking at the green of Frosmoth’s scales made him think of sickness, of something forgotten and overgrown with moss. Something abandoned.

Had he abandoned her?

She didn’t seem angry, and the fight was progressing as normally as fighting a mysteriously gigantic haunted cuppa with Opal while he was clearly in a weird space could be reasonable expected to. So she hadn't done this to him.

(Though if something wet had been frozen by Frosty’s cold as it rolled down his cheeks, it would be easy to miss in the chaos of it all, he reassured himself.)

Sinistea wasn’t exactly the strongest of Pokémon, and it didn’t take too long until it was safely apprehended, and Gordie felt he’d managed to gather his bearings again during the fight, even if his recollections of it seemed fuzzy, mostly just shouting commands on muscle memory. 

So why was there such a heavy sense of unfinished business hanging in the air? 

“Alright, should we go back and report this?” He asked Opal, eager to leave, something about this place clearly having thrown him off balance.

“Actually, I was thinking we should keep this between the two of us.” She answered.

Gordie couldn’t pretend he was _entirely_ surprised, Opal’s disappointment every time someone else found the strange dynamaxes before them had been almost tangible. He was just shocked that she was actually going ahead with this. Though in hindsight he didn’t know why, Opal didn’t exactly strike him as a stickler for rules. 

Either way, she’d been doing this longer than almost anyone else alive. He trusted her. 

“Let me guess, you’ve got something _proactive_ planned.”

“Precisely.” She responded, shamelessly. “I want to do a thorough sweep of the area, find whatever Rose’s goons have really been looking for.” 

“ _Really_ been looking for? That seems… ungenerous.” 

“Gordie, have you ever known dynamax Pokémon be particularly good at going unseen?” She asked. 

He knew better than to point out how long it had taken them to find one on their patrols before someone else did. Besides, she wasn’t _wrong_ ; he’d had his fair share of suspicions what Macro Cosmos were looking for too, though he’d assumed it was to do with the wishing stars, like the one he’d found when he’d captured Coalossal. 

Speaking of which…

“I reckon six will be able to search better than one, should I bring my other Pokémon out to help?” He asked, urgently wanting to get them out of their Pokeballs, after what had happened earlier.

A large part of him wanted to see if the warmth from Coalossal would be able to drive back the cold that had settled over him.

Another just didn’t want to be alone. 

Though it turned out that six wasn’t necessarily that much better than one. Shuckle was doing quite well, a berry forager by nature, and Frosmoth had the advantage of being able to fly.

Only problem was, none of them actually knew what they were looking for, if it even existed in the first place.

Almost none of them.

Gordie didn’t catch on to that little detail until Coalossal stopped dead in his tracks, refusing to take a single step further.

“You alright big fella?”

The only response he got was a quiet wailing noise he was taking as a definitive 'no'.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s spooking you?”

Incurable idiot that he was, he actually thought it was a ghost Pokémon scaring Coalossal at first, until he remembered that Coalossal had been through what the Sinistea they’d just fought had.

If there was something around here causing it, Coalossal would have been exposed to it before… he’d remember it.

Clearly, he recognized something. 

“Opal! I think there’s something not right over here.” He shouted, belatedly realising it was probably a less than stellar idea in a haunted forest that had fucked with his head earlier.

Thankfully, the only Pokémon that responded to the sound were Opal’s, closely followed by the woman herself.

“What have you found?” She asked. 

“Look. Coalossal won’t go near that tree… He’s been dynamaxed in that weird way before, maybe there’s something on the tree we can’t sense but he remembers from that time?” He suggested.

“Or there’s something in it.” Opal challenged, going over and reaching into one of the larger hollows in the trunk.

She must have found something, tugging from within the darkness, though she wasn’t having much success. Gordie just hoped it wasn’t something with teeth.

“Why don’t you see if you can make yourself and pull… whatever that is out?” She asked him, after another half a minute or so wrestling with something in the shadow.

He _really_ hoped nothing in there had teeth, reluctantly reaching in. 

It felt… cold. Metallic. Thankfully though, it wasn’t nearly as heavy as Opal had led him to believe, coming out fairly easily as he pulled. 

It was a blank metal box. With handles. Completely non-descriptive in every other way. 

Something that was clearly made and meant to be used by people.

Though he struggled to believe something so small could have caused so much trouble. 

Why had it been hidden there? To stop Macro Cosmos finding it?

Was this even what they’d been looking for?

Coalossal practically reared back as Gordie turned back towards the group, and any doubt that this was what had been used to dynamax the Pokémon dissipated. 

He looked terrified of it, Gordie had always known that incident in Circhester hadn’t been his fault.

Shit. He looked like he was gonna run off.

Immediately Gordie set the damned thing down, raising his arms to show Coalossal that he was empty handed, that Coalossal would be safe.

“I’m gonna keep you guys away for now, just in case.” He explained slowly, despite knowing it wouldn’t help them understand. It made _him_ feel better though. 

He recalled them all to their pokeballs, which Opal must have thought was prudent, following suit.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked her once they were alone. 

“No, but it’s broadly what I was expecting.” She admitted.

Of course it bloody was.

“We need to get this back without being seen.” She said firmly. 

Right.

Because they’d definitely commandeered something that Macro Cosmos wouldn’t be happy to know wasn’t in their possession.

Fantastic.

“Sure.” He said, taking off his jacket and wrapping it inside.

He wasn’t going to start an argument over it, knowing that she wouldn’t be doing this without a good reason.

Or more importantly, a plan.

So began their walk back, much quieter and solemner than the one into the woods had been. 

“Opal?” He finally asked.

“Yes?”

He'd somehow forgotten what had happened in the fight following all the excitement of the search. But he needed to know; to know if he was insane or if something in the woods themselves had caused his weird turn back there.

“What made you so sure there was something else we’d find?” He asked instead, losing his nerve.

“In my experience, when something starts happening in nature that’s never happened before, it’s because someone, somewhere thought they were being clever.” 

“And you think it’s someone in Macro Cosmos?” 

“I’m not sure. But I’ve tested every single person who has sat my league challenge, in one way or another, and I promise you Rose has always thought he was very clever.” 

The implication was obvious, but it was the statement itself that got to him. 

It was slightly disorientating, imagining that Opal remembered the chairman as a child, before he’d enacted his vision for Galar. That when she’d grown up, Hammerlocke had been the capital, while Wyndon was nothing, not yet even an unspoken dream in a single man’s head. It was almost as if she’d lived in a different world.

If there was something strange here, she’d have been around long enough to know, he was sure.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.” She replied, as if she’d expected that the whole time.

“Do weird things happen in these forests?”

“Weird things happen everywhere Gordie. Though admittedly, they happen more in the places you find the Pokémon types you will here.”

“Can they… do odd things to people’s heads?” He asked.

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair. I’ve heard stories that they can, but who can say if it’s them or just us… What’s bought this on anyway?”

“I felt strange when we battled the Sinistea, only for a few minutes. I’m fine now.” He rushed to reassure. 

Opal watched him puzzlingly.

“Strange? How so?”

He felt like hers weren’t the only eyes in the woods watching him, uncomfortably exposed.

“I felt… cold, I guess? And I dunno… It just came on in an instant and didn’t feel right at all.” He explained.

“Well… I have some ideas that could explain that, though I admit it would be unconventional if they were true.”

“You think something was up then?”

“Possibly… Your description sounds similar to when someone is attacked by a Polteageist, though I’ve never heard of a Sinistea having the same abilities, and it usually involves physically drinking their tea.” She explained. “But I’ve also never seen a machine that works quite like this one, so I don’t imagine it’s completely outside the realm of possibility that it was responsible.”

Despite the obvious danger of the devices if they could grant wild Pokémon power like that, he sort of hoped it were true, if for no other reason that it would reassure him that he hadn’t just lost his mind for no reason. 

“Even more reason to figure out whatever is going on with it.” He said, lifting the strange contraption.

“I believe _that_ is something we should discuss once we’re sure we’re away from prying eyes… or ears.” Opal said, gravely.

By which she apparently meant that she wanted to slam the door in his face, so to speak.

“To be honest… I’m not sure I want you to get involved, if something more is going on.” She explained, once the pair of them were locked in her office.

“But why?” He asked, hurt at this sudden lack of trust.

Hadn’t they established before that he wasn’t crazy?

She watched him, cloudy eyes searching for something he wouldn’t be able to name.

“I thought you would be a good choice for this because you had no ties to Rose, which few trainers with your experience can say… I’d knew you’d never sat a league challenge, and Circhester has never had Macro Cosmos sponsors.” She admitted.

He was surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation, struggling to believe that she’d put that much thought into a choice he’d assumed had been based purely on pity and convenience. How long had she been plotting this?

“I still have no connection to them! You can trust me.”

“I do trust you, and your mother. But I’m old enough that they can’t do anything to punish me… even without prior ties I don’t think it’s worth you risking everything to cross them before you’ve even begun.”

“What’s do you mean? Begun what?” He asked, not ready to touch on any of the rest of it yet.

“Whatever comes next for you. Frankly, we both know if you decide to never take part in competitive battling again it will be a waste.”

Oh Arceus, no.

“I really don’t want to go back into a gym.” He argued, trying to temper her enthusiasm. 

An enthusiasm he definitely didn't share. 

“I never said a gym, that was all you. Besides, we both know that’s a lie. You’re scared but that’s hardly the same thing is it?”

“I’m not scared! It wouldn’t matter anyway, you know as well as I do that I couldn’t never go back there. I don’t have a place there… I don’t think I ever did.”

“But Gordie, that’s irrelevant. Circumstances always change as you and your trainers change.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like… Laissez-Faire.” She began.

“Right.” He agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Was all of this really just because he’d disrespected her leadership style back when he’d started working here?

“Don’t look at me like that. You despise it. I did once too. I watched Melony constantly drive her team forwards when she first took over Circhester, she was relentless. And I see much the same in you too.”

“Mhm?” He prompted, mostly just wanting the conversation to run its course.

“Once I was like that as well. But Gordie, many of those trainers in my gym have been working with me longer than you’ve been alive, what would they have to gain from me managing them the way you and your mother manage your students?”

That was… a good point actually.

“I give them the freedom to explore the sport and the fairy type without me, and to hopefully discover something new that I couldn’t teach them, because I know them well enough to know there is nothing left I _can_ teach them unless they come to me first.”

“What does that have to do with me going back though?”

“We both know you want to fight and I know you want to lead too. Why else would you ask if I needed helping running my classes? And until now, I’ve been letting you ‘let do’. Hence, Laissez-Faire.” She said. "Whatever you do next, you have to do it for yourself." 

Ah.

A magician finally revealing her tricks. Or some of them anyway. 

“Alright, I’ll admit maybe I’ve changed approach as I’ve gotten older, but the only change at Circhester is that they all hate me now. It’s not exactly conductive to coaching.” He argued.

“Sometimes the change is the group of trainers you lead.” Opal simply said.

She had to be bloody kidding.

“Are you telling me I should just outright put myself in opposition to Circhester?” He asked.

“Now I never said that, but may I remind you, being a gym leader is not the business of pleasing others.”

“There’s a difference between doing by job by beating others, and breaking my mother’s bloody heart!” He argued.

“I think you’re underestimating her, she’s tougher than that. Besides, you’re in many ways as much her legacy as her reign over Circhester has been.”

Why was she saying that as if Melony’s reign was already over?

The pit of dread in his stomach was telling him he knew exactly why. 

“You want me to take Circhester.” He said.

Saying it allowed made it feel like blasphemy, like pure insanity.

“I’m only asking what you want. I have no stake either way.”

“Is this me being kicked out of Ballonlea?” He asked.

It certainly felt like goodbye, if Opal was willing to reveal her hand.

“You’re certainly welcome to stay… but I think we both know it’s not what you really need. Now that we’ve got that device, it’s given us a way forward. I trust my gym trainers to be able to handle the dynamaxes here now that we don’t have to attempt to do so unnoticed.”

Somehow, he found himself feeling… bereft at the idea that his time at Ballonlea could come to such an abrupt close. Opal was at times cantankerous, even spiteful… but could he say he was truly any different? He thought they made a decent team at least.

"You want me to leave?" He asked. 

"Not wanting someone to stay isn't the same as wanting them to leave." She said. "Sometimes it's about knowing when you don't have anything else to offer them, and that them staying will only hold them back." 

He'd been looking for an external sign that it was time to change hadn't he? The he'd land properly on solid ground if he dared make that leap?

It would be a mistake to be too afraid to take it, he knew. 

"You're right." He admitted. "It's just... happening very suddenly." 

"Well, we could give you a full farewell, tea and cakes and the like. But something tells me you're not one for big goodbyes... and that you've had quite enough tea in our battle earlier." 

Despite himself, he laughed at that, maybe just doing so because it was more pleasant than the alternative. 

"Again, you're right. I know." He said, smiling somehow. 

“It is a shame though… I think you would have made a decent fairy type leader after all.”

“Oh, right.” He said dryly.

“Though I think it is well established that you are not willing to compromise when it comes the type of gym.” Opal jibed.

“That’s not funny!” He whined, for show more than anything else.

It was strange, how Opal kept pricking and pricking and pricking away at all the spots he knew would be sore, but somehow not all of them were hurting the way he’d imagined they would, when brought back to the surface. 

Part of him hoped this meant he was getting better at this stuff, able to talk about his body with Larissa and his past mistakes with Opal; he wouldn’t have been able to do either when he’d first come home, he knew.

Though if they weren’t gonna get more days like this, then he had some questions of his own. 

“Did you ever have trouble like the ones my mum and I had, when you took over from yours?” He asked.

“So you _did_ go and read up on my league card.” Opal replied, seemingly impressed.

“I read an article about you on the internet.” He corrected.

“Well… The premise is the same.”

Somehow she still seemed a little put out.

“So did you? Have trouble I mean.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Apparently she took pity on him, watching him mope over the fact they hadn’t in fact managed to mess up the same thing.

“My mother and I disagreed over plenty of things when it came to how I lived my life, it just so happened that Ballonlea Stadium was the one thing we agreed on.” She explained. “Neither of us were keen to continue once we’d run our course.”

That didn’t seem like it was inviting more discussion on the topic.

So he focused on the other issue at hand.

“What exactly are you gonna do with _that_?” He asked, gesturing to the metal box. “It’s not like you can march up to Macro Cosmos of just accuse them of creating it, when they’re the ones trying to suppress it.”

She just smiled, not as stumped by the conundrum as he was, clearly.

“I have a very good friend who just so happens to be an expert in Dynamax. The most pre-eminent professor on the topic in the whole of Galar, to be precise.” She explained, a strange sort of pride in her voice.

“You’re gonna take it to them?”

“Yes. She’s based in Wedgehurst, so it’s quite the journey. But to be honest, I quite enjoy having the excuse to make it.” She said, looking more cheerful at the prospect as Gordie could ever recall seeing her.

Must be a good friend. 

The details were bouncing in Gordie’s head however, spinning around almost like the back full he hadn’t been able to pull off the other day.

It seemed too perfect to be true.

But he couldn’t help but remember that his mom had been working on the behalf of a female professor specialising in dynamax when she’d met his father. Wedgehurst sounded about right too, his mother’s accents having a strong Southern Galarian twang, something he’d ended up with, and been asked about by practically half of Circhester growing up.

This was practically a slap around the face, he'd be beyond stupid to not pursue it. 

“I want to come.” He said. “I know you’re worried about repercussions, but we can be subtle. I’m sure of it.”

Opal seemed surprised by the force of his sudden conviction.

“Well, I’m sure you’d been able to find her place yourself if I said no… Am I really unable to dissuade you?”

“Let me do this, and I promise I’ll stay out of your hair… and start looking into returning to the league.” He bargained.

Where had that come from? Why would she even care about that?

Apparently though, she was invested enough for it to work, smirking at him as she just watched in silence, making him squirm at the scrutiny.

“Deal. I’ll get into contact with Magnolia and try and get everything arranged for the journey.”

He didn’t know what he expected to find when he went there, but he was finally feeling that he’d been pushed forward by some external force, that his efforts in setting up the right position were paying off.

First of course, he’d have to talk to his mother, to find out what she thought, if she was okay with him going if it was were she was originally from.

Maybe he could even drop the letter off at her parents for her, if she wanted him to; save her the struggle of trying to do so herself.

It was all he could think of on the train home.

Until he remembered what had happened in the forest with Sinistea, trying to distract himself from the other topic and immediately regretting it once he’d realised that everything else that had happened today was _worse_.

Opal had refused to say much on the topic, when he’d asked why Polteageists had that effect on people, or whether she’d been effected herself.

So he was turning to Bulbapedia.

He almost wished he hadn’t, none of what he was reading being particularly reassuring.

Sinistea was a spirt of loneliness, possessing a cup of tea than had gone cold, surviving (or the ghost equivalent, just existing) by draining the life force of the living. It sounded silly, but remembering how it felt when he and his mother had stopped sharing that peaceful time in the morning over cuppas, Gordie understood just how much sense it made.

The page said that the people who were more vulnerable to attack by Polteageists were lonely people, and he wondered if that had held true for the Sinistea he’d fought. He wondered if Opal had truly been unaffected.

He didn’t really want to know either way, not liking the implications of both possibilities.

He could imagine the person who’s loneliness had created that Pokémon, with a sort of visceral clarity that left him wondering if it was an after-effect of his episode earlier. A person alone in a cold room, in a house that couldn’t be their own, too sterile, and impersonal; with no one around to even remind them they’d made a drink, to not let it go cold. Not enough left of themselves to be able to remember in the first place.

Ghost type Pokémon were every bit as tragic as they were terrifying, when you thought about them. 

It was easy to forget how awe-inspiring all Pokémon truly were, when you spent every day with them. Until reminders like these came along, of course. 

Which is how he’d ended up researching the history of all of the Pokémon in his party. Coalossal and Frosmoths piqued his curiosity especially, mostly in the sense that they were the ones truly native to Galar, never having left for other regions and being deeply intertwined with the human history of the region.

He thought about the Rock trainers he’d met before he’d come home, and how even as knowledge as trainers like Olivia were, they’d be totally unfamiliar with a Pokémon like Coalossal.

A tragic loss on their part, Coalossals being true marvels of nature. Apparently, they’d used dynamax energy centuries ago to keep Galarian cities warm during harsh winters, back when people had no other means of survival. They had to be pretty smart and compassionate, to do that off their own back.

Reading it made him furious that whoever had made that device was forcing them to do so against their will, terrifying them in the process. 

Trying to calm down, he carried on his little research break, surprised to find that Coalossal and Frosmoths were both self-appointed protectors in the wild, willing to invoke vicious temperatures on those who dared to damage their habitats.

Maybe that’s why the pair somehow managed to get on quite well. It was almost sweet, actually. 

Much sooner than he’d expected, the driver's voice sounded over the speakers that the train had arrived in Circhester.

He guessed that meant he’d succeeded in distracting himself from miserably deliberating over what to say to his mom about his and Opal’s little... _expedition plan_ to Wedgehurst.

Which of course meant that he had no bloody clue what to say now. Typically. 

Still, honesty had been working refreshingly well so far.

_Maybe it was worth a try_ , he considered, making his way home along the dark evening streets.

A small snow shower was falling, not all that odd for Circhester this time of year, but he still bundled tighter against the cold, trying, and failing to not think of his incident with Sinistea.

Larissa had been more right about just letting things happen than she could have possibly understood. 


	21. Facing Forwards

Gordie found himself coming away from that evening pleasantly surprised.

He’d always known that it wasn’t going to be easy to talk over everything with his mother, if for no other reason than how much she would worry over him. But she seemed… alright about it all. Willing to treat him like an adult who could tell her what was going on in difficult situations anyway.

Though she wasn’t _overly_ pleased about him being attacked by a ghost.

Then again, neither was he honestly.

In the circumstances though, he felt as alright as could be expected, marvelling at the curative powers of a quilt and some proper comfort food.

She’d pulled a blinder there, as though she’d known he was gonna have an absolutely crap day. Politoed in the hole probably wouldn’t be able to fix all the wrongs in the world, but it wasn’t a bad start; crispy, greasy, and begging to be absolutely drowned in gravy.

But maybe it was the other thing that was actually distracting him from all the wretched events of the day, he reflected. The quilt was a shabby old thing, salvaged from one of many boxes in the shed that clearly hadn’t been touched since they’d moved here. But it held a lot of memories, mundane things that had somehow become precious to him with hindsight, and Gordie would have probably gotten under it even if it hadn’t been deemed safe by his mother following a few wash and dry cycles.

When he’d been younger, the heavy fabric had been big enough to pool around him, submerging him in an ocean of quilt; the effect somewhat diminished now but still more than enough to bundle under. He’d spent countless hail dampened days stuck inside, nuzzled underneath, lazily tracing out the patterns made by the border and lattices.

Not that he’d ever quite been able to make any sense of what it was meant to represent.

It was a common pattern, the Sword’s Slumber (or Soldier’s Slumber depending on who you asked), though Gordie had never been able to figure out where any swords or soldiers were on the design, imagining instead that they were the ones meant to be slumbering underneath it.

He’d always thought it was pretty dull honestly; grey diamonds separated by a white pattern his mom had always called a ‘Cathedral Window’. It was the other parts that had caught his attention as a kid, the plaited red border; the switch to blue windows towards the edges, and most confusingly, the vivid, gold diamond in its centre, which had always seemed out of place given how muted the rest of the colours were. 

Now though that diamond made him think of the sun, rising over an impression of endless snow-capped peaks given by the grey and white panels surrounding it. A benefit of seeing more of the world beyond the quilt he supposed, remembering the glimpses of the mountains in Sinnoh he’d seen from plane windows.

It was nice to he could appreciate the duller bits more now that he was older, knowing there was such a thing as too much excitement.

Still, somehow being there, under that quilt with his mother trying her upmost to coddle him after his day brought him back to those times he’d lay under it as a child, and once again he could almost lull himself to sleep.

“So did Opal terminate your contract on the spot? I swear that woman is the enemy of HR departments everywhere.”

Except for _that_ one thing.

It was a small detail, really. Minute even. 

Gordie just hadn’t quite broken the news of where he and Opal would be visiting to follow up on the device they’d found.

“Well, we’re not fully done yet, I guess I’m probably serving my notice? She just said it’s not worth going to Ballonlea to patrol now we’ve found one. Avoiding suspicion and all that.”

“Oh! Why were you so upset then?”

“I wasn’t!” He claimed, shrilly.

His mother watched him flatly, refusing to dignify his transparent lie with a response.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be super extensive follow-up, and I don’t think she even wants me there. I had to drive a hard bargain.” He explained.

Come to think of it, his end of that deal was another thing he’d conveniently forgotten to mention.

“How do you even figure out what something like that _is_ without Macro Cosmos finding out?” She asked.

Honestly, she sounded more like she was more wondering aloud than asking him directly.

He was certain she wouldn’t like the answer regardless.

“Turns out Opal is actually good friends with an expert in this sort of thing. Convenient, right?” He said dryly.

His mother didn’t look amused however, a squashed tension in her frame. He considered lying to her, making up some random name and title to assuage her fear, just in case this Pokémon professor was the same one she had known; after all, there could only be so many dynamax experts in Galar right?

It was stupid to lie, he knew.

But how could he possibly explain why he was pushing to go on the off chance he was right?

Why _was_ he pushing to go?

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew the was absolutely no chance he’d just walk down the street and find his grandparents while he was there. When he was younger he’d had a sort of idea like that though, maybe more of a fantasy than an idea, too outlandishly optimistic to not let go of as he’d gotten older. The day dream that someday he’d turn a street corner in Circhester, and bump straight into someone who’d just… recognise him, and he’d recognise them in turn, and that would be that; not yet understanding just how far away any other family of his were, in every sense.

Even with their fighting, he’d long figured out that he and his mother didn’t need her parents in their life to be happy, and he wasn’t under the illusion that meeting them would even be guaranteed to be a positive experience; the only impression he’d had of them for the better part of two decades being that they hadn’t wanted him around, which wasn’t necessarily untrue, even if it hadn’t been quite how he’d imagined it.

Apparently it was harder to let go of those sort of childish delusions than he’d imagined though.

But maybe pushing for her to make the next move would finally grant his mother a chance for a fresh start with people she’d loved after she’d lost yet another one far too soon.

And if not… hopefully she’d finally get closure from all those mixed feelings she’d been dragging around his entire life.

They’d gotten the chance to reconcile after their argument, surely his mother deserved the same, if that was what she wanted.

Hopefully, she’d be able to see it that way too.

The silence between them had been stretching on too long, obviously both thinking along the same lines. Surely she wanted him to put them out of their misery, either way.

“The professor lives near Wedgehurst, so it’s gonna be one hell of a commute, but Opal says she’s busy anyway, so we’ll have to figure out when she’ll be free for us to drop in.” He explained, trying for casual. ”I think it was Professor Magnolia or something like that?”

As if. He’d memorised the name like his life had depended on it, watching every tick in his mother’s face that might give her away.

Not that she was trying to hide it.

She looked resigned, and he knew immediately that he’d found the right one.

“Small world.” She said dryly, not bothering to explicitly explain why.

“I suppose you can only run in the same circles for so long before you start running into the mutual acquaintances.” He argued.

“You know, with Opal, I’d _almost_ think it was intentionally… But I’ve never even told her anything about that.”

 _That_ was interesting; he’d be lying if the thought Opal had done this on purpose hadn’t crossed his mind; not entirely sold on the idea that it was truly just a bizarre coincidence.

“I’m not convinced she can’t read minds.” He joked.

“She’d definitely use it for evil if she could.” His mother agreed. “But don’t worry, all the psychics I’ve met were those strange blonde ones, I don’t think there’s any relation.”

Gordie didn’t even want to remotely touch upon the idea that there were people in Galar who supposedly _could_ read all of his deeply embarrassing thoughts.

Thankfully, his mother spared him the need to.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re so intent on seeing this through though.” She pointed out, the unspoken accusation more than loud enough.

“Come on, I’ve seen it through this far.” He argued. “Besides… I figured that if it’s near where you want that letter going, I should be able to drop it off for you.”

No point in lying now, after all.

“Is that right?” She asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn’t read it! I promise, I know you don’t want me to… I just want to help, to spare you having to go all the way there… You can trust me with this.”

“I can’t.”

There was a strange chill of disappointment then. As if he’d been set adrift once more, uncannily reminded of his incident with Sinistea earlier, apparently not as recovered as he’d assumed.

That wasn’t her fault though, he knew she had the right to refuse if she wasn’t ready.

“Mom, if you really don’t want to do this, you’re under no obligation. I would _never_ make you do something like th-“ He began.

“No.” His mother interrupted. ”I want to do this. I just… have to do it myself. I need to know that I’d be able to change my mind once I actually got there.” 

“I get that.”

Knowing he could turn away at any moment had been helpful for him (even if it had come with its own share of turmoil) when he’d first come home, remembering that even at the front door the idea hadn’t completely evacuated his thoughts.

He couldn’t take that choice from his mom.

That was everyone else’s job for him, he thought unbidden.

Where had _that_ come from?

The room started spinning then, even sat down, and he grabbed the arm of the sofa to try and steady himself, not occurring to him that there wasn’t exactly anywhere he could fall to.

“Sweetheart are you alright?”

Shit.

His mother seemed worried, her words sounding warbled as if they were underwater.

“Sorry… Went a little woozy. I think I’m just tired from everything earlier. I’m alright now.” He tried to reassure.

“I think maybe you should get some sleep, you look pale” She suggested.

Right now he didn’t even to have the energy to argue that he always looked pale, one of those pesky consequences of being next level pasty.

So he gave in, acknowledging that sleep might not be a bad shout right now.

She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

He pulled her into a hug, hoping that ghost attack side-effects weren’t contagious. Maybe he’d overdone it, seemingly shocking her with the sudden momentum of it; she was hardly a frail person but he was still much bigger, and it was easy to be more forceful than intended. Thankfully, she recovered quickly, grabbing him back almost as tightly. 

It was the warmest he’d felt since his fight earlier, able to go to bed with a lighter heart. 

If that night he dreamt of the fight again, a version of it where he released his Frosmoth into the wild like he had her teammates, left alone to face Sinistea, then well… it was only a dream.

He could deny feeling the remnants of the Pokémon’s wrath the next morning.

No. Not wrath.

_Loneliness._

On the bright side, his head did feel clearer for the longer night, and a bit of a lie in he realised, after a brief surge of panic that he was going to miss his train.

Of course, not an issue, because once again Gordie had nowhere he was actually expected to be.

He tried not to feel a little bothered by that.

Somehow he’d managed to get up later that the younger ones, which was probably a world first, well, while they were living in the same time zones at least; meeting them all in the kitchen already tucking in to breakfast.

It was quite sweet actually, he never usually made anything much fancier than a few rounds of toast on weekdays, but his mother must have gotten up early to make them a bigger spread, already having some out for him.

Still hot, which was nice.

(Though if he felt nauseous stirring the milk in his tea, seeing for a split second the swirling patterns of a Sinistea again, then no one had to know.)

“I’ve spoken to Opal.” His mother said, once she’d sent the triplets up to brush their own teeth.

Apparently she trusted them to do so now they were six, so long as they were in their pyjamas rather than their school uniforms. It was strange, watching them growing up a little, day by day.

His sister turned her head at the sound of their mother’s voice, looking confused at what she was taking about.

“Other Opal.” She explained. “Though I want to talk to you too, snowflake.”

“What’s wrong?” Opal asked worriedly.

Gordie imagined he could take a pretty good guess what she wanted to talk about.

“She and Gordie are going on a trip next Thursday. I might tag along… I need to drop off that letter I’ve been writing.”

Their mother must have explained that part to Opal already, judging by her reaction. That was… a relief, he’d said he wanted to be more open with his half-sister, but he never felt comfortable enough to tell her things he believed ought to be his mother’s secret to tell.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about this new development though; his mother’s presence had never exactly acted as a deterrent to anxiety in these sort of situations.

(Really, she’d been his harshest critic half the time, or at least it had felt that way.)

Plus, who was so busy in a niche field that they were booked over an entire week in advance? What was he meant to do in the meantime?

Still, maybe he’d actually get to meet his grandparents, if his mother was there to take him to their house.

“You’re gonna meet up with them without me?” Opal asked, in a way Gordie could tell was her trying to sound reasonable.

Of course, teens and pre-teens could only suppress so much of their hormonal moodiness.

“We would never.” Their mom reassured.

Damn.

“I’ve left my number on the letter, they can get into contact and arrange a meet up if that’s what they want… I would never cut you out of that.”

“But you’re leaving the little three out?” Gordie asked, not missing the fact she’d sent them away before explaining.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know if they will even call, and I don’t know how it will go if they do… I don’t want to invite their grandparents into their lives if they’re just gonna flake straight away. You guys are old enough to understand it, but they’re still so little.”

He wasn’t about to argue on that, sounding more than reasonable from his end.

“They need the stability.” He agreed.

“Exactly. So please, don’t mention anything yet. We’ll see how things go before introducing them.”

“Are you gonna drop them off at grandma’s and granddad’s?” Opal asked.

“We’ll see if they’re free, I’m sure I can find a babysitter if not. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves anyway.”

The kids in question stomping their way down the stairs brough a swift end to that line of conversation, quickly shifting back to some impression of normality.

For them anyway, getting ready for school and work, while Gordie started washing up all the plates from breakfast.

With the promise of being left alone in the house without the need to do work for Opal until next Thursday, the familiar ennui began crawling back in.

Well, sort of.

But this wasn’t like before, when he’d been too tired to even care that he had nothing to do. Back then he hadn’t wanted to do anything, while right now he’d settle for doing _anything_ ; having just enough drive to be annoyed that he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do with himself once he was finished with what Opal had asked.

It wasn’t even that long to wait, he knew, but he’d already done more than his fair share of nothing for the year, unable to shake off the listlessness, like sitting in a skin that didn’t quite fit, with something trying to crawl its way out from the inside. 

He’d collected some little habits to fill the days last time he’d been stuck at home, but there was only so much cleaning and cooking he could do, especially when so little of his day was spent feeling sorry for himself now. On a whim he went for a couple of runs, aiming for less busy times of day, as if he could train himself to not despise cardiovascular exercise if he just had some privacy doing it.

Wasn’t really a success. He could physically manage a run, but he knew his speed and stamina weren’t anything to write home about. Besides, it was just… boring, honestly; having far more luck whenever he chose to just practice some gymnastics instead. (Though he doubted his set-up managed to meet any safety standards.)

At other times he’d go into the back garden and let out his Pokémon for fresh air, keeping on top of their grooming more immaculately than he’d ever managed to before. Sometimes, he just stared at Frosty, attempting to parse meaning from those alien, glassy eyes, to figure out if the loneliness that had caused Sinistea to attack had been Gordie’s or her own.

She wasn’t giving much away, but sometimes he got the oddest sensation that she felt just as impatient, as stifled as he did right now.

Try as he might, he couldn’t fully shake off the feelings – coming to a head once more while he was at the gym, potentially one of the worst places it could have happened.

“It’s alright, everyone has off days.” Larissa tried to reassure him.

Had Gordie ever had a time where he was actually ‘on’? Whatever that was supposed to entail in the first place.

“I know I can do this though! You watched me do it before.” He argued.

He must have over practiced, somehow getting further away from the correct way of doing things without someone there to fix where he was going wrong.

“Your body just can’t seem to figure out where it’s going, and that’s alright, you’ll get there again. There’s no point beating yourself over it.”

It wasn’t meant to be going anywhere! The whole point of the back full was that you finished in the position you started.

Why couldn’t he pull it off here?

He was doing bloody fine with it at home after all, looking after everything while his mom still ran Circhester, which he’d probably do everyday once Opal was done with him for good. Back where he’d started.

Unless he did what she told him with searching for a new gym.

But wasn’t that what he always did regardless?

All he’d done was switch to Opal telling him what to do, rather than his mother… who he’d already failed miserably anyway.

He really was right back where he’d started, where he’d always been. Too weak and too stupid to find an escape.

The last thing he wanted to do was dump any of that on Larissa though, he didn’t need to overshare with literally every female coaching figure in his life. Besides, he wasn’t an idiot, she definitely hung around him more than she did a lot of the other attendees, so she had to find his company at least halfway entertaining, something he definitely wouldn’t be able to pull off today.

He didn’t want to push her away now, and not be able to work with her when he felt better; because he would feel better, he knew. This was just some weird turn, from Opal pulling the rug from under him or from some ridiculous Pokémon that didn’t make any sense in the first place. (All his research into the topic seemed to suggest any effects would have worn off by now, apparently condemning him that this weirdness was all his own.)

“It’s alright. I know you’ve got a bunch of people to look after, I’m gonna switch to some of the twisting drills, try and get my sense for it back.” He explained, not wanting her to feel like she should stick around when he was accomplishing nothing. 

“That sounds like a good idea.” She agreed, thankfully leaving him in peace.

Though, there wasn’t actually that much peace in his silence right now.

It could have been his imagination, but it looked a little bit like she’d felt sorry for him then, and he could barely stand it.

This must have been the first good idea he’d had in a while though, the drills actually seeming to help him regain his sense of position in space.

Sometimes, when he was in the air, it seemed like it was the only thing he did that actually made him feel like… well, him. The fuzziness that had been sweeping over him periodically since his last day at Ballonlea could do nothing but retreat in the face of it. Without that cotton numbness, finding his way didn’t seem as difficult somehow. 

While he felt like this, it was worth trying the back full again.

His brain didn’t need to know where to go, he reminded himself, Larissa having endlessly drilled into him the premise that as long as his body was in the right position, nature would do the rest.

Focusing on his positioning, he threw his left arm down as forcefully and rapidly as he could muster, feeling himself turn quicker than he’d managed before.

But he still felt steady. 

Closely followed by feeling heady, intoxicated on the realisation that he’d just bloody done it.

Well, kind of. Technically he’d gotten more than a full there, but he didn’t think it counted if he hadn’t actually tried to bring himself out of the twist for the landing.

Not that anyone would believe him, probably.

As if that bloody mattered.

Right now he needed to stop feeling sorry for himself, he’d done it hadn’t he? No spooky, swirly cup of tea was gonna make him dizzy if he could spin at least 360° in two axes at once.

Gordie wanted to ride the high out while it lasted, planning to bring his right arm in next time, and try and get them both back up in time to exit the twist upright, like Larissa had made him practice without the back layout part relentlessly. 

Putting it all together took… a little bit more fine-tuning.

But if managing the twisting alone had felt like flying, then actually exiting and landing the damned thing was beyond description, soaring some place higher than cloud nine.

(Was there a cloud ten?)

He was actually glad he’d have a few days off to work on it next week, to try and perfect it on the ground rather than the trampoline.

Maybe Larissa would be a little disappointed she hadn’t been there to see him pull off his first ones after she’d worked so long with him to get there, but secretly he appreciated that he got to do this just for himself… it felt like he really was just doing it because he wanted to. No expectations whatsoever. (Not to mention he’d have it more polished to show her by the next time he was here.)

At least he had at least one sense of direction in his life, not letting himself lose his way in the air.

Part of him desperately wished he could just… grasp that feeling, hold onto it with both hands and put it into place when it came to the big things.

It was worth trying if nothing else.

Which is how he found himself sat that evening, staring at his phone screen like it was the root of all the world’s problems.

To be fair, it was the root of all his problems right now.

Because he was composing a text, in theory at least.

An apology text to Oliver and Kiera, suddenly finding himself far more sympathetic to his mother’s struggles to find the right words for her letter. But he needed to send this before she actually dropped that letter off, in case it blew up in their faces and stole all of his courage from him.

He forced himself to remember that he was in the perfect position to do this, he just had to let it happen. 

It wasn’t as if he was all of a suddenly sold on Opal’s insistence that he had to join a gym again, to compete, he just… wanted to make it up to the people he had trained with. The people he’d hurt because he wouldn’t be straightforward with them.

This apology was long overdue, he knew.

But this was truly something he wanted, had wanted to do for a long time; had just felt unable to.

It was tricky, was all.

There was also an added danger, a risk that Keira would tell Liana that he’d gotten in touch… Liana was probably owed a sorry too; but honestly, everything at Circhester was too complicated right now to figure out who was owed what.

Start small, he reminded himself, trying not to allow himself to become overwhelmed by it all.

While he had all this time was probably the best time to do this, even if it gave him more time to stew over all the worst-case scenarios.

_Hello. I know you probably don’t want to_

_hear from me, and you don’t have to reply._

_I just wanted to be able to say my piece. I_

_wasn’t hiding my role from you because I_

_didn’t trust or respect you._

Unbidden he thought of Chazza then, watching him and cheering along, acting as if he wasn’t way more skilled than Gordie, and how patronising it had felt.

_I didn’t see training with you as a joke, or_

_a novelty. I’m sorry if I came across that_

_way. I enjoyed my time there more than_

_anywhere else I’ve ever trained. I know_

_it doesn’t excuse it, but I want you to_

_understand that I found it hard working_

_at Circhester. Your gym was an outlet_

_where I could train authentically._

_But that should never have come at the_

_expense of the truth, and I’m sorry._

In his text to Oliver he continued.

_I didn’t mean what I said that night,_

_It was spiteful and inexcusable. You_

_train and battle as well as anyone_

_else in the league I’ve seen. Even if_

_you didn’t, only a wanker would say you_

_weren’t working as hard as I was then._

To finish both messages he added.

_I wish you both the best of luck with_

_your gym, and I am so sorry_

_about how things ended up._

After reading it over, he switched the ‘hello’ at the start to ‘hi’, viscerally aware it all sounded too stuffy, but unsure on how he could possibly make it less awkward, given the circumstances.

He signed it with his name, in case either of them had deleted his number.

He tried not to think that they might have blocked it instead. 

But he didn’t get a reply that night.

He didn’t get a reply on Sunday either, distracting himself by training with the triplets, talking with Opal about how things were going with her training group, and getting to finally show off his back full a little, blowing Platty’s mind and giving his mom a heart attack with the realisation that Platty was probably going to try copying him at some point too. Feeling almost normal in the face of it all.

With all of that he’d almost managed to push the messages out of his head, trying not to be disappointed at the lack of response; he’d literally told them they didn’t have to reply, that was on him.

Didn’t stop him creating scenarios in his head though, that they’d changed their numbers, or dismissed it as spam and never gotten the message in the first place.

The reply that came on Monday put all that to rest though.

It was from Oliver, though when he read it he knew the pair must have spoken about it before he’d replied.

_Keira told me not to talk to you._

_But if you want to explain yourself,_

_we can meet up. I’m not angry,_

_I just don’t understand why you did it._

There were… mixed messages there, and Gordie was simultaneously relived that he was getting a chance to properly explain himself, and absolutely dreading the prospect of it.

Worse was the fact they couldn’t meet up until Friday, by which point they would have dropped that letter off at his Grandparent’s house. Plenty of opportunities for things to blow up in his face there.

No.

He wouldn’t let himself think like that.

Because he wasn’t back where he started, this wasn’t some endless cycle. This had been his landing, and even if he was facing the same way he’d taken off, that didn’t stop everything between being important, being real. 

He had to let it mean something, knowing that if he was still too afraid to try and make things right, then losing Circhester and working with Opal had been for nothing.

So he agreed to meet on Friday with Oliver, ready to leap into the unknown, hoping he could stop himself getting lost this time.

Knowing he had something definitive planned after Thursday, as unrelated to work as it may have been, helped the rest of the week go faster.

Besides, there had been a lot of planning, trying to be discrete, prudent considering that they were sort of committing conspiracy (the details of which had not been shared with any of his siblings, even Opal) against the huge corporation that employed them.

Opal had arranged transport from where they’d agreed to meet in Ballonlea, someone she trusted, not wanting to take a train or taxi, because if one major league gym leader would attract attention, then two would practically point a spotlight on their entire operation.

(This was almost dramatic as Pearl’s loose tooth had been, he mused dryly.) 

Not that Opal seemed especially keen to discuss _why_ they were doing this with her make-shift chauffer, an elderly man who seemed to agree the less that he knew, the better. 

Which is why Gordie had switched tactics.

“Okay, but I need info, like, backstory on your parents.” He claimed to his mother.

“Backstory?”

“You know, what they’re like, what they do and that sort of stuff. Just in case we end up talking to them.”

Know thy enemy, and all that.

“We’re not gonna talk to them, we promised Opal, remember?” His mother pointed out.

“Alright, but these things happen… and it’s scary knowing absolutely nothing about people who are already gonna have seen loads of my mistakes plastered across newspapers.” He admitted. “Plus, if I nothing about them, how do we know they won’t be in?”

“My parents are workaholics, and they never mentioned either of them having retired in the card they sent. They’ll be out.”

Spoken with the true wisdom of someone who had been used to sneaking around as a kid.

“Workaholics? Do they work with Pokémon too?” He wondered.

He’d never thought to ask that before. His mother actually laughed at the question though, a sound he’d never heard associated with talk about her family.

“No. They’re… not the type. My mom was a teacher, and my dad a uni lecturer… I don’t imagine they’ve changed fields since then.”

“Are you the only Pokémon trainer in your family then?” Opal asked, butting in.

Gordie wasn’t even sure if she’d been told about the letter, or was just reading the room.

(Or potentially unlicensed taxi, rather.)

They were hardly gonna exclude her though, were they?

“Until Gordie yeah, my sister definitely seemed like she was gonna follow more in their footsteps rather than mine.” His mother answered, almost casually, but not quite.

Her bloody what?

“ _Sister?_ ” He asked affronted, not even bothering to hide it.

“Just the one.” She admitted, shamelessly. “Don’t look at me like that! She never got in touch, so I never brought her up.” 

A revelation like that was almost enough to distract him from the other part, which had probably been the point. 

_Almost enough._

“Your parents are pretty academic then? Guess that bit managed to skip me.” He joked.

His mother just sort of tutted him.

“Don’t do that, it’s not funny, it’s just mean. You’re a clever, articulate young man and if we do arrange a meeting they’ll see that too.” She chided.

Being chastised like a child in front of Opal was more than a little embarrassing, especially considering she didn’t bothering trying to hide her amusement. Somehow he’d ended up outnumbered, by two gym leaders who both enjoyed tormenting him.

Another fantastic idea on his part that proved that he really wasn’t smart, despite what his mother claimed.

Arceus, whenever he was forced to confront the idea that meeting with his grandparents would also entail them meeting him, he felt sick. Not weird, haunted cuppa sick, thankfully; just regular, ‘my self-esteem isn’t tough enough for this’ nausea, a feeling he was intimately familiar with.

Because he hadn’t been lying, it was awful that these strangers would have already seen so much of him, all of his worst mistakes immortalised in print.

What were the chances of them really thinking he was anything but a loser? A spoiled, greedy child who’d been given everything by Melony but failed anyway. Hadn’t she said something to that effect of that last part herself when they’d been fighting after all? 

He almost found himself glad that they weren’t going to talk to them today, suddenly not ready for how that confrontation would go.

He needed more time.

Though it was pointless really, it wasn’t as if he’d somehow managed to become an entirely different person in the interim, which is probably the only way he’d feel comfortable meeting them.

This wasn’t about him though, this was for his mother.

“Sure, but we’re not meeting them today anyway, remember? So it doesn’t matter.” He jibed. “Got any other stories, to make them seem less intimidating?”

It was actually rather impressive. Writing that letter must have rid his mother of some of her demons even before she’d sent it, more willing to tell him stories about her family than she’d ever been before. He supposed when you had to put into words the reasons you wanted to try and make things work, it reminded you of the bond you had in the first place.

They sounded like… a normal family. The idea of one that he’d never quite known, very much a nuclear two parents, two kids situation, complete with the neat home, and neat life. Anecdotes about them seemed to make them more human, and perhaps more importantly, managed to fill most the time of the journey.

He tried not to be bitter that they’d been so convinced that he would have ruined that life they lead, because he knew it wouldn’t be too long until they dropped the letter off now. Gordie didn’t want to do that with a heavy heart.

“Alright, Magnolia’s is just down here.” Opal directed their driver, who had been so quiet that he’d managed to forget he was there.

A glance at his mother seemed to confirm she’d done the same, only just realising a complete stranger got to listen to what amounted to the story of her life.

But if Opal trusted him, he doubted it would go any further than that. 

Pulling up near Professor Magnolia’s lab, the place looked imposing, a large, dark-brick build, elegant with an obvious gothic influence. Immediately, Gordie could tell why Opal and this woman got on well, she was a sucker for a dramatic presentation. 

“Wait, is that?” His mother started to ask.

Bugger, it was wasn’t it?

“Magnolia had implied as much, though she’s been quite closed lipped on why.” Opal explained, at the sight of several Macro Cosmos workers congregating around the property.

Fucking fantastic.

“Perhaps, it would be prudent to do your errand first. I doubt me visiting an old friend will attract too much suspicion, but it’s impossible that the three of us would be able to get through without some questions being asked.” Opal offered.

Sadistic woman, he could tell she was incensed at the prospect of watching them squirm.

“Oh don’t be that way, I won’t tag along. I’ll get out now, and phone you when there’s less… guests over, so you can make your way back. You stay in here, and you can be dropped off back in town, away from prying eyes.”

That didn’t sound unreasonable, though it was a little off-putting that they’d gone through all this to avoid Macro Cosmos, only to find they were already here anyway.

Did they want what Opal was after from the Professor too?

Maybe the truly weren’t the ones behind this after all.

Somehow this day was becoming ever more complicated, and Gordie was dreading how he’d feel meeting up with Oliver tomorrow if things continued in the same vein.

Thankfully, their driver was beyond professional, doing as Opal said and dropping them off without ever acknowledging he’d heard a thing about either of their plans, as they thanked him and departed.

Which left just him and his mother, wandering the place that had once been her home. It didn’t suit her, she’d always seemed like she was practically carved from the same stone as Circhester itself. Icy and unyielding, beyond even the white hair and blue eyes. Though come to think of it, that too, no one else around them sharing anything resembling her colouration.

People were watching. Undoubtedly recognising his mother, whether from the gym or from her childhood he wouldn’t want to say; this place was much smaller than home, small enough that realistically it could be either. 

For her part, she wasn’t paying them any mind, thought the stiff set of her shoulders and neck told Gordie she was going to great lengths to manage that.

“Wanna show me all the things you used to do for fun around here, to kill some time? I imagine she’ll be a while.” He offered, hoping to help take her mind off of everything.

Imagining his mother as a kid was weird, though she hadn’t been all that much of an adult when he’d been small. Maybe it was imagining his mother being carefree that was the difficult part, balancing the weight of the world since the moment he was born. Before that, even.

Would young Melony have felt the need to keep everything under her control? To keep everything in her bubble of safety, lest it escape for a moment and immediately everything fall apart.

Probably not. There was a sort of symmetry there, he could appreciate, that he’d gotten his control freak tendencies from his upbringing, while she’d gotten her own from his existence.

He wondered if either of them would be able to let it go, if things went well here. It would be nice to think, but he doubted an entire lifetime of hurt could be wiped away without leaving a scar, one way or another.

One thing he was quickly learning, was that kids this end of the region clearly had literally bloody nothing they could do for fun, every few patches of grass pointed out to him by his mother as somewhere you’d sit during the weekend to drink cheap, warm alcopops your friend would have bought from a corner shop where they didn’t bother IDing, knowing everyone was underaged anyway.

Alright, so they had one thing they could do for fun, even if it sounded a bit crap when an adult was re-counting it.

When she pointed out a wall leading away from a group of little shops, explaining that she’d had her first kiss there, he couldn’t stop laughing.

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, I’m just imagining the Wooloos watching you be all melodramatic.”

“Well excuse me for not planning my first kiss in advance, weren’t you ever young and dumb?”

She quickly sobered, watching him cautiously, and he could practically hear what she was thinking.

Arceus, why?

“I have kissed before you know!” He argued indignantly at her expression, certain his face must have been bright red.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“It was written all over your face!”

“You just never told me… Your own mother.” She said, sniffling dramatically, pulling it back considering she’d clearly genuinely believed he hadn’t.

“I was fourteen. It was a very bad one, with a girl in my year.” He admitted begrudgingly. “I was way too cool to tell my mom about it back then.”

Granted, he’d never actually been cool a day in his life, but at least at fourteen he’d been grumpy enough to feel it sometimes.

With that she’d managed to turn the tables on him, mockingly cooing about how her little boy was growing up so quickly, and telling him to keep his stories family friendly, outright cackling at his obvious mortification. At least she’d gotten over her tension from earlier, though the fact that it was practically deserted out here (maybe it was the time of day?) probably helped.

It did mean he could tell when they had to be getting close, her footfalls growing softer, more reluctant, as they re-entered from the sparse fields back into a residential area.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, his mother led them down a cul-de-sac he was certain had to be the correct street.

He drank in every detail, curious over the place he could have grown up in, in a different life.

Then his mother stopped dead in her tracks. 

“Number eighteen, this is the one.” She said, gravely.

It didn’t look anything like the houses in Circhester, red-brick and semi-detached, smaller than their house, but seeming homelier. There was ivy crawling up the front, looking almost as if it was there against the will of the owners, though the neat trimming around the windows suggested to Gordie that the effect was intentional. There weren’t any plants hardy enough to grow up a house like that back home, which was a bit of a shame actually.

It was nice, he could imagine people building their picturesque suburban lives here.

But the picture seemed hollow, somehow.

There weren’t any kids playing this time of day, but he could see an elderly looking woman, staring from a window across the street, not even having the decency to pretend she wasn’t as Gordie caught her eyes.

Bloody cul-de-sacs, everyone trying to be in everyone else’s business. He couldn’t believe they’d have been happy here. Of course, unless they weren’t paranoid, neurotic messes in this imaginary world he’d envisioned.

“Are you gonna do it?” He asked, wanting to leave so he could stop ruminating on a bunch of things that never even existed.

“You do it.”

“Me do it? The entire point of you coming is that me doesn’t do it!” He argued, panicked.

They both seemed confused by his garbling of the sentence there, though she seemed too scrambled by the door ahead of her to point it out.

“I know, but I don’t want to.”

“I mean I can, but you can’t shout at me to pull it back out once it’s through.” 

“What? You wouldn’t break into a house for your dear mother?”

“Don’t say something like that in the middle of a street!” He whispered harshly, before wondering why he was saying the non-incriminating part quietly.

She just laughed again, apparently finding some of the mischief she’d left behind when she’d left home. Which was great, really, he’d just prefer if he wasn’t the victim all of a sudden.

“Your parents don’t have anything that bites right?” He asked.

“They never did before.” Was all she offered.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Hand it over.”

Despite the fact she’d literally asked for this, she was reluctant in giving him the letter.

Which is why he wasn’t all that surprised, that by the time he was actually there, she ran to meet him, snatching it back.

“I’m getting mixed signals.” He said flatly.

“Give me a second! I’m making my mind up.”

“Alright, alright.” He said, raising his arms defensively.

Without even looking at the thing, she shoved the envelope through the mail slot in the front door, practically wincing, even though they were literally just posting a letter.

Gordie was starting to get why Pokémon trainers had a reputation for being melodramatic, come to think of it.

“That’s sorted then.”

“Yep.”

“Let’s hope they haven’t moved house.”

“Gordie! Don’t even joke.” She scolded, clearly no less stressed for having done it, constantly looking at her bag as if her phone was going to go off this instant.

Neither of them were keen to stick around now the deed was done, making a desperate retreat like they’d played one of those silly games kids did to harass their neighbours. Less ‘knock door run’, more ‘estranged daughter running off’ though.

The ringing of his mom’s phone on the way back seemed to pierce the air, both of them immediately dropping the conversation, as she started fumbling to get it out of her bag.

“It’s Opal. Thank fuck.” She said, slumping in relief as she answered.

“ _Mom_!” He shouted, amused at her language now he was no longer shitting himself at the prospect of his grandparents being a ten-minute stroll away.

Apparently it was safe for them to make their way over to the Professor’s now, which worked well considering they would take any excuse to leave here. Grabbing a bus to route two (which was according to his mother, a bloody miracle considering the state of public transport this far south), they were able to ignore what they’d just done, able to pretend that his mother wasn’t probably going to get the most awkward phone call of her life this evening.

Turns out their presumption was correct.

Because the shrill tones of her ringtone actually started while Opal and her friend were both in sight, waiting for them in the doorway.

Immediately they both knew who would be on the other end of the phone.

Gordie only just had time to think how poor the timing of that was, before the damned thing hit him in the face.

Literally.


	22. Universal Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the only real universal truth is that nothing will go how you expect it to.

“Ow! What did you do that for?”

Granted, it didn’t actually hurt beyond the initial shock, but his mother had just legitimately _lobbed_ a phone at his head, so he felt the response was warranted. 

“Answer it!” She said, as if that was the obvious thing to do with items that had assaulted your skull.

“What? No! They won’t know me.”

“Say it’s a wrong number.”

“I’m not prank calling your bloody parents!” He said, trying to be hushed so the others wouldn’t hear, but so stressed it came out closer to hissing.

“Gordie!”

“I’m not doing it.” He said, getting ready to chuck it back.

“No! Let it go to voicemail, we can sort it later.”

“How? Throw it at some stranger on the street?” He challenged.

“Oh, shush. Switch it to aeroplane mode, we’ll deal with it after. Let’s sort the other reason we’re here first.”

He did, feeling like a git of the highest order for it. To phone so quickly they must have been desperate to even have just her voice in their life, and here he was, severing that connection before they could even make it.

But his mother was right, if Professor Magnolia was as busy as she seemed, and surrounded by Macro Cosmos workers, they didn’t have the time to waste.

Her parents had been estranged over twenty years, they could wait a few more hours.

“Sales call.” His mother explained as they reached the doorway, so shamelessly that he couldn’t stop a snort of laughter escaping, quickly covering his mouth in at least a semblance of good manners.

“Melony is renowned for her impenetrable ice-cold professionalism, as you can clearly tell.” Opal quipped to cover their arses over the ordeal, and Gordie was glad that he apparently wasn’t her only target for merciless mockery.

So much for first impressions with the professor though.

Except it wasn’t his mother’s first meeting with her, was it? He wondered if the stern-looking woman would even remember her, she didn’t seem the sentimental type.

(Again, it was obvious straight away that she and Opal were kindred spirts, if her freaky bird cane wasn’t enough of a giveaway.)

“Seeing how busy you are I’m not going to waste your time. Let’s get straight to business shall we.” Opal said as they made their way into a large room covered in books and papers.

“You always do.” The professor replied fondly.

“Gordie help me get this out and onto the table.” Opal said, motioning to the device within her bag.

Seriously, was there some strange magic in that bag that had enabled her to hold it so far today? He distinctly remembered her struggling to pull it out of the tree when they’d found it. There was no point getting distracted by bizarre ideas right now though, he knew, going over to help her.

It made a satisfying thud as it landed on a counter the professor had cleared for them, and a sort of hush fell over the room at the sight of it.

“Now, where in the world did you find one of these?” Professor Magnolia asked.

“You seem familiar enough with it that I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Unfortunately, I can.” She agreed “I’ve been acquainted with more of these than I’d like recently… Though I dread to think how you’ve acquired this one. ”

“You’re being awfully mysterious about the whole thing. The least you could do is tell us what we’re actually dealing with here.” Opal said, not bothering with manners.

Gordie had always appreciated that she was willing to be direct about things when it mattered, even if right now he was anxious that it may get them kicked out, and back to square one.

If the professor didn’t just flat out tell Macro Cosmos about this little incursion, that was.

“There’s a lot of red tape here, I’m not sure it’s your place to come here and tear through it all.” The woman in question pointed out.

It probably wasn’t their place, honestly. But how could they sit around and do nothing? The police barely bothered when it was related to conduct with Pokémon, but giving Macro Cosmos free reign only worked if they weren’t the ones behind it.

“I’m not blind yet Magnolia, I noticed the annoyances crawling all over your lab.”

“Then you must understand why I’m reluctant to talk about this.”

“Don’t worry, these pair won’t blabber. Besides, when have I ever let bureaucracy or social convention dictate what I do.” Opal challenged.

Her friend seemed unpersuaded.

“Come on, I know you would never assist them if they had poor intentions, and if they’re not up to anything then I’ll stop interfering, surely that will bring some peace to your life?”

“You believe Macro Cosmos are behind this?”

“I did. I’m no longer so sure, though I’m certain you can illuminate the situation for us.”

“That’s a lot to ask, Opal.” The professor said. “I can only tell you what I know.”

“I thought you knew everything? Or everything worth knowing anyway.” Opal said, with the sort of smug smile that indicated an inside joke.

“Charming.” She replied dryly. “This device is, in principle, a portable power spot, though I’m sure you’d figured that part out.”

“I’d noticed it did roughly the same thing, but how do you make a power spot? They’re natural formations” Opal asked. 

“Certainly, you’d struggle to make a permanent one, but it’s a simple enough process to harvest something emitting the radiation, keep it in a stable container and add a wishing star when you wish to activate it. In theory anyway, it’s still impressive that they’ve found a way to collect it in the first place.”

“Why doesn’t it do anything until you add the wishing stars?” Gordie asked, finding that he’d been shifting his dynamax band on his wrist almost sub-consciously.

“Well, it’s quite interesting really.” She began.

Opal shot him a dark look, and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps asking a world leading expert on the topic about it on a whim hadn’t been wise on his part.

“Both wishing stars and power spots are believed emit something called Galar particles, though I resent the name given how little it does to describe what they actually are, which honestly researchers are still only scratching the surface of.”

He nodded and mhm-ed in agreement, hoping she wouldn’t call upon him to finish any of her points.

“As far as current research indicates however, Galar particles are not a form of baryonic matter, barely interacting with ordinary forms of matter at all. If it wasn’t for the effect on spacetime whenever Galar particle annihilation occurs most people would be inclined to say they don’t exist. But when you can isolate the causative agents it’s hard to deny there’s something inside them causing such dramatic outcomes.”

“Right.”

“It requires at least one sample of both types to be present to cause any noticeable distortion in space, which usually manifests as the dynamax phenomena in Pokémon. Personally, I think the power spots and wishing stars a bit like spacetime itself, two parts a single entity erroneously considered to be distinct because we observe it’s characteristics separately.”

By that point, he couldn’t even put on a good show of pretending he knew any of what she was on about, and it must have shown on his face.

“Maybe it would be easier to demonstrate.” She said, pulling the portable power spot over, and tinkering with it.

Clearly she’d seen loads, as within no time she opened it up, ready to explain.

Only, something must have stopped her.

She fell silent, looking over it with renewed interest.

“When did you find this one?” She asked.

“The day I phoned, do you really believed I’d have turned to anyone but you with this?” Opal replied.

“Have you altered it in any way?”

“No. I rather enjoy being intact, I’m not prone to playing with machines I don’t understand.”

“Did you?” The professor accused Gordie directly.

“No! I’ve seen what they do enough times to know not to mess around with them.” He replied in a panic, reminded of whenever in school a teacher would call on him for an answer.

“Trust me Magnolia, this boy isn’t like Sonia’s friends, he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” Opal added.

It was strange, hearing her come to his defence. Especially, when the majority of the time she seemed to doubt his life choices. Of course, the whole thing might have just been trying to inspire confidence in her friend so she didn’t throw them out. 

“What’s wrong with this one that makes you think it’s been meddled with?” He braved asking.

“Well, Rose made no secret of the fact these were based on stolen Macro Cosmos tech when he starting bringing them to me, in fact, his entire reasoning for doing so was that he could no longer trust his own engineers if one of them was behind the leak.” Magnolia explained.

 _That_ was certainly something. He wondered if she had intended to tell them that from the outset, or if finding this device in a different state to the others had thrown her off-guard.

“But this one has something the ones they brought you were missing?” His mother interjected.

Gordie had nearly managed to forget she was there she’d been so silent. Whether it was the phone call she’d ignored or being around the professor again that had her in a quiet mood, he wouldn’t like to guess.

“Yes, a few things actually. Either whoever is creating these has been playing around with the designs, or someone within Macro Cosmos has been reclaiming their ‘stolen technology’ before handing the specimens over for examination.”

None of them seemed to struggle in figuring out which was more likely.

“Why would they do that? What could you possible examine if they don’t work anymore?”

“They did it because they mistook me for an idiot.” Magnolia replied tartly.

“Yet you didn’t know until just now.” Opal sniped.

The professor shot her a venomous look before collecting herself, and Gordie wondered exactly how someone had remained close with Opal for so many decades when she pulled shit like that.

“I hadn’t realised they’d deluded themselves into thinking they’d disguised it’s intended purpose.” She replied. “It’s still able to dynamax Pokémon in this state, so I’d assumed that whoever was making these was simplifying the design from the original version to better fit their needs.”

“Macro Cosmos weren’t building this to dynamax Pokémon?” Gordie asked, confused by the implication. 

“No, they weren’t. This is part of a generator, and I cannot understood how they actually believed they were hiding it from me.”

“A generator?”

“The sort that makes electricity.” She elaborated.

That made the situation make… far less sense. How could an electric generator cause a Pokémon to dynamax? As far as he’d seen a stray thunderbolt from a Pikachu had never managed that.

“Are they doing something dodgy with them?” He asked, somehow more worried than he’d been when he’d thought it was an elaborate form of testing on Pokémon.

“No. Hubris isn’t illegal, if only we were so fortunate.”

“Will they actually be able to make this work?” Opal asked. 

“Oh, I’ve seen some of their earlier work in action, I’m certain it will be functional. But when you can light a candle with a match, why use a bonfire?”

“I don’t understand how it works in the first place.” Gordie said. “How is this worse than anything else that makes power?”

“Do you know how electricity is made?” The professor asked.

“Er, you burn coal?” He replied, desperately wracking his brain for science lessons he may have remembered.

Mostly he was coming up blank. 

“I mean what that actually does.” She pressed.

Clearly, he had not come prepared. No one had warned him about the impromptu science test, which had somehow become the most stressful part of his day.

“Then, no. I do not.”

“Magnolia, none of us know. Please put us out of our misery.” Opal interrupted.

Seriously, what did it say about the situation when bloody Opal was the one stopping awkward interrogations instead of causing them?

“Learning about something you use countless times a day isn’t misery, but fine.” She rebutted. “With your example it’s not even about the coal, it’s about the steam you make by burning it.”

He just nodded along, trying to pretend he even remotely understood where she was going with this.

“Almost all power is created using that principle, it’s called electromagnetic induction. Any time you move something that conducts electricity through a magnetic field, you create an electric current. All you need something to drive motion, whether that be wind, or steam, or flowing water.”

“Oh, is that how hand cranks work then?” He asked.

“Yes, those are a very direct way of creating that movement.”

“As much as we all enjoy these lessons, I feel we must be getting close to the part where you tell us why this machine is such a terrible idea.” Opal interjected.

“Well, what does this machine do?”

“It makes Pokémon very large and distressed.” She replied.

“How?” Magnolia asked frustratedly, clearly having no time for Opal’s sarcasm.

“When the wishing stars and power spots meet, it causes a distortion of spacetime.” His mother piped up, though the words came out stiffly, like she was recalling them by rote from something she’d been told.

Of course, she was, wasn’t she? Earlier probably wasn’t even the first time she’d been told it. 

His mother's response seemed to remind Professor Magnolia that there were four people in the room, not three, and in a bizarre turn of events considering how she’d been the entire time they’d been here, she smiled.

“Exactly, yes… Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you worked with one of my summer interns once, didn’t you?”

Bugger. He’d sort of assumed Magnolia hadn’t remembered her from the lack of recognition earlier, but either a second look, or talking about her work, had sparked something in her. 

At least Opal looked a little surprised instead of all-knowing, apparently she really _hadn’t_ take that into account before planning this meeting.

“Yes, that was me.” His mother replied, smiling but suddenly much further away, he could tell.

“I thought so. I wasn’t certain, I’m not very good with that sort of thing honestly, and you didn't mention it on your way in. But I remember seeing you when you were first promoted to the majors and thought I recognised your Lapras. Gorgeous creature.”

“She is.” His mom said, smiling more sincerely at the compliment for her partner. “I’m hope you’re doing well professor, aside from all this of course.”

“As well as can be expected. Are you doing alright my dear?” She asked softly.

Gordie didn’t really see her as a soft person though.

Maybe she had heard about his mother’s (relatively) recent widowhood, it wasn’t entirely ridiculous that a friend of Opal’s who worked with Pokémon would follow league news. 

Rather that than having been told about her departure, all those years ago, he hoped.

“I am, thank you. It has been a very long time since I’ve been this far south, I almost forgot warm weather was a thing.”

There were customary amounts of polite laughter at that, even if no conversation about the weather could ever truly be all that charming. 

“Time does fly by, it’s got to be almost twenty year since you worked here.”

“Over that even.” His mother said. “It’s coming up to twenty-two.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll make me feel _very_ old. Where have the years gone?”

“What does the dynamax energy have to do with electricity?” He interrupted, hoping he didn’t seem too rude, but certain this line of conversation was making his mother uncomfortable.

Opal wasn’t an idiot by any means, she could easily collate the timings with the fact his mom didn’t have contact with her parents. It wouldn’t take her long to put together a reasonable picture of events. If his mom wanted her to know, she’d tell her, no detective work necessary.

“Of course, sorry. You came here on business, not for a catch up.” Magnolia said.

Once again, he felt wretched. But he knew this was the last sort of conversation his mother needed right after she’d extended the olive branch to her parents.

“Where was I… Oh, yes, Dynamax energy. It’s actually a bit of a misnomer, but it has stuck over the years. In this instance, these devices aren’t moving a rotor in space.” She explained, gesturing to the guts of the opened machine once more. “They’re, in essence, moving _space_ around the rotor.”

Right. _Of course_.

It certainly didn’t sound good, messing with the fabric of spacetime so you could turn on a lightbulb felt like… overkill, to say the least. Not that he’d ever really put that much thought into either until now. 

“Why would they do that?” He asked.

“I imagine it has a few advantages. For one it’s clean energy, and I can only picture the control they’ll have over the velocity if they control time itself in the machine. Though I have to admit it feels a bit like splitting open an atom to see what’s inside and then acting surprised when it blows up in your face.” 

None of them were really in the position to debate the merits of an energy source they didn’t really understand, unlike the professor, but he was certain he wasn’t the only one who’s skin was crawling at the idea of it. Manipulating space and time just seemed fundamentally wrong somehow, especially when you were doing it for something that, at it’s core, could be done by a hand crank instead.

“Is that why they tried to hide it from you?” Opal asked.

“I doubt it. Their previous designs were all above board.” Magnolia replied, seeming derisive. “I imagine they were scared I would steal it. That assistant of his, Oleana, she has a brilliant mind, but she can be…very defensive over these things.”

Clearly there was something else she wanted to say there, though she seemed inclined to remain diplomatic, if for no other reason than because he and his mother were there to hear it.

Gordie was just surprised that his assistant was behind this sort of technology, it wasn’t fair that someone _that_ terrifying had a brain to match. 

“I was expecting something a little juicier than that.” Opal complained, seeming genuinely a little put out.

It wasn’t reassuring to know that beyond being willing to accept widespread corruption, she was anticipating the chance of it adding a little excitement to their lives.

“Sorry. In fact, with what you’ve brought me today I’m actually quite reassured.”

“Oh?”

“If it’s Macro Cosmos altering the portable power spots, rather than whoever is placing them, then it stands to reason that the minds producing them know that they don’t understand the device enough to make alterations.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Well, clearly they want it for its dynamax properties, not its generator ones. Plus, the source of the leak certainly won’t be one of their engineering staff who made the original, or they wouldn’t have bothered with the other parts, it's just extra work and resources.”

“So someone just took the designs and sold them to the weirdos behind this?” He asked.

“I don’t think so." Magnolia explained. "Based on the fact that they’ve made no obvious efforts to retrieve the devices or track their effectiveness, I’d say they have someone working somewhere in Macro Cosmos where that information is readily available. Maybe they’re keeping an eye on it from there instead of getting their own hands dirty.”

“Are you telling me an administrator has put us all at their mercy?” Opal asked dryly.

“Quite possibly. I suppose it’s only fair retribution for working with so many divas over the years.”

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

“Would I ever?” The professor asked, words laced with wry sarcasm.

Something in the room seem to be diffused at that, no longer bound by the heavy tension of secrecy. It became something almost like a catch up, albeit a highly unconventional one.

Which was ironically, from his point of view at least, more awkward.

The triplets had moaned before that mom was prone to ‘mom chatting’ on the playground, a phenomena where the parents would congregate and talk none stop while all of their kids were just playing in dirt or desperately wishing they were already on their way home.

Gordie hadn’t really been able to imagine their mother doing it, but here he was, sitting through a live demonstration.

Suddenly he was far more sympathetic towards the little three.

“Opal you should stay a bit longer! I’m sure Sonia will be upset to have missed you.” Magnolia suggested as the visit seemed to be drawing to its natural close.

Opal herself seemed to have the sort of look on her face that suggested she didn’t necessarily believe that was even remotely true.

“We don’t mind Opal. Gordie and I will have to get back soon to pick up the little ones, but we can get the train back.” His mom offered, reassured that Macro Cosmos wouldn’t be suspicious to see them so close to one of their contracted researchers.

He was… sort of on the fence about all that still.

But he was practically dead on his feet after the day they’d had, more socially challenging than physically tiring, but amounting to the same thing.

Some fresh air made him feel a bit better though when they finally escaped.

“You ready to listen to the voicemail?” His mother asked, promptly bringing him back to reality.

Because, yeah, that was still a thing. 

Bugger.

“I think you should do it alone.” He said.

“What?”

“If you want me to hear it that’s fine, but I get that it’s personal. I want you to have privacy, I know it’s been a bit of an overwhelming day.”

That whole spiel in the lab was making him think about what was and wasn’t ‘his place’.

Granted, he desperately wanted to get some insight into his grandparents, regardless of how detached he was trying to be for his mother’s sake, but… she was the one who’d had the falling out in the first place, and there was no guaranteeing that the voice mail would be pleasant, or that it wouldn’t mention the contents of the letter she hadn’t wanted him to see.

This really wasn’t his place. 

Thankfully, she seemed to get it, wordlessly pulling him into a deep hug.

“I’m sorry for chucking a phone at you.” She said into his shoulder, so muffled he almost didn’t hear it.

In spite of himself, he was laughing at that, body wracked by bursts of it, probably shaking his mom too consider they hadn’t parted yet.

It didn’t even feel weird when they separated, and he supposed it wasn’t like she was keeping secrets when he was the one who suggested letting her do it in private.

It made a nice change of pace.

They agreed to meet up here when she’d finished listening, and he figured in the meantime it was worth trying to settle some lingering doubts with Opal.

Which is how he’d ended up in a sitting room within the professor’s place, far more homely than the area she’d used for research. Not quite how he’d imagine a stereotypical ‘old lady room’ but certainly a closer approximation than anything else he’d seen from her.

“So what? You’re just… done with this now?” He asked Opal, once Magnolia had left to call her granddaughter over. 

Because, unfortunately, he wasn’t sold that this _wasn’t_ their place.

“Precisely. Magnolia was correct, this really isn’t our job to sort out. I can sleep soundly now, knowing I’m not working for the people behind it.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not gonna keep happening! How can we not take this any further?”

“Because you can’t go to the police with hearsay, especially when it comes from someone who almost certainly has signed a non-disclosure agreement. I’m sure Magnolia will find a way to put the idea that it’s possibly someone in his administrative side behind it in Rose’s head without giving us away.”

“So that’s it then, we’ve washed our hands of all this?”

“I highly doubt it. They’ve got to be doing this for a reason, whoever is behind it. Given that they’ve been targeting cities with gyms in the majors predominantly, it’s almost certainly going to be related to the league.” 

“And we’re just gonna let it happen.”

“Nothing is stopping you from patrolling Circhester, but yes, unfortunately anything past that is probably vigilantism Gordie. Remember, you’ve been very helpful in responding to incidents, but it is _not_ your job to track down the people behind it.”

“Why did you think it would be Macro Cosmos?” He risked asking, too frustrated to follow the other line of questioning any further.

“I never said that.”

“Yes you did! Besides, you make it obvious that you don’t like Rose. Or trust him.” He countered, not bothering with her mind games today. “You think my future should be with the league, but you don’t even seem to trust anyone who runs it.”

She sighed heavily.

“I see, Magnolia is done prattling off her universal truths so now it’s my turn. Well, lucky you, mine are the ones you’ll actually use.”

“Oh yeah?”

He was impressed at her conviction, if nothing else.

“It’s hard won wisdom.” She said. “I can’t pretend that I have a deep trust in any of the league board. Rose is… better than many of the men who came before him. But believe me Gordie, that’s not saying much.”

“What, they’ve all dabbled in ethically questionable energy production?” He asked sardonically.

Opal laughed.

“I’ll admit, that’s a new one actually, most previous league heads didn’t own half the region either. But they were crooked enough that they’d act like they did.”

“Crooked how?”

“In all the obvious ways.” She said, looking at him like he was very naïve.

“For example?” He prompted, wanting to know what they’d actually done. 

There was something uncharacteristically serious on her face then, and he’d almost go as far as to call it _solemn_.

“All the old fashioned tricks. I will never forget when I made it to my first championship final, and they asked me to throw the match.” She began.

“What? You didn’t say yes did you?” He asked, stricken.

“They didn’t need me to. Instead they granted my opponent to right to use non-Galarian Pokémon in our battle. Including one I had never encountered in my life, more powerful by far than other ones.”

Her opponent, Mustard, he remembered her talking about him; though he couldn’t have imagined her spite towards him came from a place like this. As opposed to… well, wherever her spite towards everyone else came from.

“You’re kidding.” He said, not really believing it, but unsure what else he _could_ say.

“Unfortunately, I’m not. Rose abolished the practice, of course.” Opal explained. “It was quite a shame for my not-quite rival, actually, Mustard had built such a reputation as champion that most people were willing to fight fairly against him instead of taking the money, just for the battle they knew they’d get to be a part of… but then he lost that extraordinary Pokémon, and everything just sort of fell apart for him.”

“He lost them? You mean…”

“Yes. I’d long gotten the impression that his partner Pokémon was far older and wiser than even he’d realised. None of us understood the true extent of that until the end, however.”

Outliving your Pokémon was a true rarity, and a fate that seemed almost too painful to imagine.

“That’s awful.”

“It was. There was little that could make me spare kindness for him, but that did the trick. He figured out the leagues attempts to rig his matches afterwards, though I doubt he ever saw the full picture… absolute dullard.”

“You really don’t like him do you?” Gordie asked, if only to ignore the darker implications of the conversation.

“We… were very different people, who just had the misfortune of wanting a lot of the same things in life. Put us at odds for decades, though I suppose that sort of rivalry can be good for you. Keeps you sharp.”

“You guys were sort of the Leon and Raihan of your generation then?”

“You have been doing your homework.” She replied, approvingly. “It’s not a terrible comparison, only we managed it without the eroticism.”

Well, he certainly hadn’t seen _that_ part mentioned when he’d been researching the major league dynamics. (Out of curiosity of course, rather than any vested interest or specific intentions.)

“I apologise Gordie, that joke is mostly only funny when Raihan is around to complain about it.” She explained, leaving him confused over whether there was any eroticism or not.

“Did you…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Stop wanting to be champion at some point?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t say that… Eventually I just realised that it probably wasn’t going to happen for me. I know I lost my best shot as a direct result of league politics, and I won’t ignore that it happened, but I’ve had a happy enough career that I don’t regret joining this organisation even with that.” She said.

“So what, you were screwed over but you’re fine with it?” He asked, refusing to believe that was the case.

“Not fine.” She argued. “I’ll admit I’d lost much of my faith with the league, and Rose has not yet managed to restore that for me.”

“You don’t think Rose rigs battles, right?”

“He would never be so bold. The man loves to maintain a spotless image, but there are other ways to manipulate outcomes without cheating outright.”

“So what? You’re saying that the league is terrible and I should just sign on the dotted line ‘just because’?” He asked derisively.

“The league is wonderful. I have spent over eighty years taking part in it, watching as each generation of trainers furthered their performance and positively shaped our world. Do you know why Pokémon training is the most popular sport?”

“Because giant creatures throwing fire at each other looks cool?” He suggested, mostly joking.

Mostly. He still wasn’t wrong exactly.

(Not that Opal seemed to appreciate it.)

“ _No._ It is because Pokémon are so integrated into our lives, that sometimes we need the reminder that they are extraordinary. We need to watch people being extraordinary alongside them too. Pokémon battling is a reflection of the most sublime parts of life, when we manage to co-exist in harmony with the creatures around us.”

Gordie doubted he could ‘co-exist in harmony’ with the majority of life in this world, he couldn’t even manage it with his own bloody family half the time. 

But he knew that Pokémon were miraculous, and he knew how it felt to be perfectly in-sync while he was battling. If he felt totally centred in his body when he was using it for some proper gymnastics, then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to say he felt that centred in his mind when he was in the midst of a battle with his team.

It was better than feeling like himself though, because when he battled he never felt alone.

“Then what are you trying to say? I’m kind of getting mixed messages here.”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t give your whole self to an institution that won’t do the same in return. Your mother is an incredible gym leader, but her identity is too closely intertwined with her role to be sustainable, she’s burnt out before she’s even forty for Arceus’ sake.”

Gordie almost considered arguing then, defending his mother’s honour or something, but honestly, it wasn’t as if Opal was wrong. It just hurt to hear someone acknowledge it. His mother was burnt out but carrying on anyway because she didn’t know how to stop.

He was supposed to have helped with that; fantastic job he’d done there.

“Then it’s a lose-lose situation!” He argued.

“It's not. The people running the sport aren’t the same thing as the sport itself, and as long as you understand what’s going on behind the curtain, you won’t get manipulated by it.”

“I have no idea how I would even do that.”

“Find a gym where you feel at home, and finally realise that they are the ones that matter. Block out the rest of the region when they can’t keep their silly, flapping mouths shut. You owe nothing to Circhester, or to the league. All you should endeavour to do is become the best trainer you can, and if you wish to lead a gym, then do so, you’re already more than qualified.”

“Nepotism isn’t a qualification! I don’t even know why everyone is so convinced that I want to re-join a gym anyway. If I went back to competing now what would stop me being an independent challenger?”

“Other than lack of external endorsement?” Opal rebutted.

He wasn't going to dignify that with a response. 

“To be honest, others think these sorts of things of you because, generally, you don’t start voluntarily training with and registering a gym unless you have an interest in it.”

That was… fair. But throwing it in his face wasn’t.

“Yeah, and it was sort of obvious that it was a bad call on my part. I was an idiot to do it, and it hurt everyone I’d led and trained with.” He pointed out.

Just in case she'd somehow missed the incredibly terrible way that had panned out, and how easily avoided it could been avoided.

“Surely the stupid part was when you agreed to lead a gym you had no interest in, and had shown you didn’t want a part in by, oh, I don’t know… publicly battling it’s leader in a bid _not_ to be her successor.”

That was... also fair.

“Alright, I’m sure we can both agree I make _a lot_ of bad decisions.” He begrudgingly admitted. “But, if I went anywhere near those gyms again, it would just be giving me the chance to do something even dumber.”

“Then join another one. I heard there’s a rock gym in Wyndon that’s poised for promotion into the minors. It would certainly be a good platform to start a new career from.”

“I don’t want to join a gym just for a career ‘platform’!”

“Is that so?” Opal said, smirking.

Immediately he knew he must have sprung some trap she had set.

“Then is there already a gym you have an emotional connection to? Since you seem so hostile to the idea of searching for the one most suited to your ability.”

“You’re not being subtle.” He said. 

“If I were, I fear you’d miss most of what I was saying.”

“Ouch.”

Arceus, she wasn’t holding back was she? He really didn’t want to carry on a conversation that was transparently half a chance to lecture him, and half a chance to just dunk on him. 

But there was something he desperately had to know.

“How are you supposed to ignore the public? Isn’t the entire point that you perform _for_ them?”

“It’s not a circus Gordie. Though with the number of clowns competing I can understand your confusion.”

Despite himself, he was laughing at the one. It was a little mean, but it wasn’t exactly untrue, was it?

“Alright, I get that we’re not performing Grookeys. But aren’t I at least supposed to _try_ and be likeable?

“That’s a lot more complicated than you’re pretending. Likable is a very fluid concept.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t laugh.” She warned. “But when I was younger, I used to be considered very… countercultural.”

“Opal, are you telling me you’re _edgy_?” He asked, forcing himself not to titter.

“To the mainstream public of my youth, I must have been. You have to consider that there was motivation behind trying to rig my finals match… I haven’t always been the most positively received of gym leaders.”

“When did that change?”

“It was a sort of gradual thing… Now I’m rarely anyone’s favourite gym leader, and that’s fine, I don’t find myself in the business of pandering to others, but I don’t find that sort of vehement backlash anymore. Even without the zeitgeist shift, people just don’t find an old woman to be a social threat, even if she hasn’t renounced the values that she was once ostracised for.”

“More fool them then.”

Gordie had seen allusions towards that when he’d looked up her past in the league, it wasn’t widely spoken about, not like her inheritance of her gym, or rise to near championhood, but it was there if you looked for it. A young woman who hung out with people with the wrong politics, who loved the wrong people (it hadn’t specified, but he’d gotten the impression it was the wrong _sex_ , rather than objectionable individuals). Well suited to living life behind the curtains of a theatre, or hidden between trees in the dark forests of Ballonlea.

Part of him had wanted to ask about it, if it was rumour or truth, but it had never seemed appropriate, she’d spent years being grilled over it when it was nobody else’s business, he couldn’t add his voice to that if she wasn’t bringing it up first.

“I don’t think I’m strong like that.” He admitted, feeling absolutely pathetic for it.

“You don’t have to be strong, being yourself is easy, once you realise how difficult it is to try and be anybody else. What people like in others is very variable… but in my experience being inauthentic prevents you being truly becoming close to anyone.”

Didn’t he bloody know it. Again, she didn’t need to throw the two gyms thing in his face.

“You’re taking a lot of interest in this Gordie. Are you scared people won’t like you if you do return to the competitive scene? Because I really think you’d be very well-received.”

It almost felt like it was worth the argument this time, as if a simple ‘seriously, look at me’ would get across the point that there was no bloody way people would like him, like his infamy in Circhester for all his bollocks over the years didn’t already demonstrate it perfectly. 

But, for once, he didn’t feel like trying to correct someone who was trying to be kind to him.

“Honestly… I am a little scared, yeah.”

“I think there’s value in that.” She said, catching him off-guard.

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re in the public eye, people will see themselves in you and your experiences, often in ways you wouldn’t expect. If there are things that make you feel a little vulnerable, being able to go out there and be yourself confidently in spite of that may mean a lot to someone, somewhere, without you even meaning to.”

Thankfully, she wasn’t taking time to elaborate on what could possibly make him feel vulnerable, which was more things than he cared to admit to.

“Do you really believe that?” He asked.

“Well, you asked me about my own route of gym inheritance decades after the fact. That was something you saw yourself in, and who could have possibly guessed we’d find something we both relate to?” She pointed out. 

If he wasn’t so bloody awkward there was plenty more he might have asked rather than just the mom thing, but some things were just too tricky to talk about with someone who was your mother’s friend foremost.

“I guess you’re right.” He acquiesced instead.

“I never had mainstream popularity, but throughout my life I managed to make precious friends who reached out to me precisely because they saw me being myself at a time where lots of believed I shouldn’t be. It made them feel less alone, and these were people I’d have never thought I had anything in common with.”

“That’s… nice actually. I just don’t really think any part of my life is that… profound.” He explained.

“Too bad. Being human is a deeply profound experience, and being reminded that at the root of it you have the same hopes and fears as the people around you is an important part of that. No one ever sees themselves in perfection, and no one really cares about people in the spotlight who act that way either.”

It was odd, imagining that all the familiar little niggling doubts he was burdened with could make someone feel better about their own, but hearing Opal’s story was actually helpful… so she had him there. 

“None of that made your league cards huh? I think they chose all the wrong stuff.” He joked.

“Well, the most interesting parts of history happen off the page. Sometimes you have to live life in the footnotes.”

“Like secret meetings where you talk about bizarre plots by your boss who owns half the country?”

“You really need to do more things that are actually fun.” She replied flatly, before laughing, and he couldn’t help joining in even if he was the butt of the joke. 

It was certainly something to think about, dramatic parting words worthy of the fairy-type leader in what might be their last meeting for awhile now that they’d given up on their little chase.

There was just one more thing.

“I’m not saying I’m gonna do it… But how are you supposed to even know when you’re in the right place? For gyms and stuff.”

“That’s simple.” Opal said, smiling, sincerely for once. “When the entire world seems like it’s disappointed in you after a failure, the right gym is the one that’s disappointed _for_ you instead.”

That was worth keeping in mind he knew, considering he was finally going to try and explain himself to Oliver tomorrow. 

“Thanks. I’m gonna go find mum. I, er, hope you have a nice evening?” He finished awkwardly, ignoring as she made fun of him for it as he left. 

(No, he definitely did _not_ run away.)

So far this daytrip had been… different to what he’d expected, though he knew there was still plenty of time for it careen off into chaos.

That was what he tried to keep in mind as he made his way down route two to their meeting point, finding his mother was already there. She didn’t look like she’d been crying or anything, thankfully. 

Though he couldn't quite figure out what the expression on her face _did_ mean.

Maybe she was a little overwhelmed, whatever she’d heard it was bound to inspired complicated feelings. He remembered when she had phoned him in Alola, it had been strange for him, to say the least. 

Arceus, had it already almost been a year? Somehow it felt like it had never happened, like he’d never even left.

Though he doubted she’d ever reach that point with her parents, she’d been gone ten times as long as he had, after all. 

If it had been complicated for him, he struggled to imagine what it would feel like for her now.

Upon seeing him she managed a smile though. 

Whatever had been said, she didn’t offer to let him listen, and he tried not to be disappointed, he was the one who had suggested she do so alone, and there was no point saying that sort of thing if he didn’t really mean it.

He felt like he’d mostly succeeded, acting normally as they made their way to the station.

There were people watching them while they waited for the train, but no one seemed brave enough to ask her for an autograph, though clearly a few people wanted to, watching from the corner of his eyes as they shifted with scraps of paper, or marker pens.

Something about the clearly weird vibes around them right now must have stopped them, though they were probably assuming that he and his mother had fought; they had a reputation for it after all.

Joke was on them, for once they were actually providing a fairly united front against the world.

His mother seemed keen to demonstrate that, once they had a little more privacy in the train carriage.

“I don’t think he tried again after the first call.” She finally said. “That never really was their style.”

He? It must have been just her father on the voicemail then, Gordie reasoned. 

“Oh… Are you alright?” He asked, not really sure what he was meant to say in the circumstances.

“Mhm. I think so.” She said, though she didn’t sound certain herself.

In a display of complete stupidity on his part, he took the offered bud of one of his mother’s earphones, assuming that she was just getting him to listen to music on the train and appreciating the gesture, even if he didn’t get particularly motion sick.

Only, she wasn’t.

Obviously.

“Melony.” Was the first thing the man’s voice said, somehow catching him completely off-guard. 

The entirety of Galar was whizzing past through the train window, almost too fast to make out the details, but Gordie knew that the rest of the world may as well have not existed right now. Their world was limited to the pair of them, and the voice playing through the phone, trying to fill twenty years worth of space within a few minutes. 

How was he able to do this without fear that he'd gotten the wrong number? 

Even everything Magnolia and Opal had said seemed muted now, distant somehow, and Gordie could see that he and his mother had similarly confused expressions in their reflections in the window, like they weren’t sure how they’d ended up here either.

Who would have thought this little trip would have ended like this?

Listening to his grandfather's voice for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael Faraday didn't die for us to make up plotlines revolving around pseudoscience about an electricity crisis, I say while writing more elaborate pseudoscience than Game Freak bothered with in the first place.


	23. Someplace new

Reunions were weird.

Gordie wasn’t totally inexperienced with them, he’d already pulled off the major one when he’d come home after all, but he hadn’t done it enough times to really have a good idea of what was _meant_ to happen.

He’d sort of figured this one could be a sort of practice run though, hoping that if he could make peace with Oliver he might feel better equipped to help his mom make peace with her parents.

Didn’t stop it being completely nerve-wracking though.

Honestly, he hadn’t _really_ expected accusations to be yelled in his face or anything, once he’d gotten over his initial malaise surrounding the whole situation anyway. He _had_ expected at least some passive aggression though; not Oliver seemingly content to pretend the whole thing had never happened, desperately filling the silence with talk about anything else. 

But here they were, breath hanging in the crisp air between them every time they opened their mouths, like words unspoken.

Most of what had happened was going unspoken, actually.

It made sense, Oliver wasn’t a mean guy, and he certainly wasn’t an aggressive one. Gordie had sort of gotten the opposite impression actually, figuring that Oliver struggled to assert himself and that was why Kiera was so often keen to do so on his behalf.

Gordie wished he was the kind of good person who didn’t like that, didn’t feel more comfortable that Oliver wasn’t pushing the issue. 

Because someone was gonna have to.

This wasn’t the sort of conversation that could just be glossed over, they weren’t close enough to wordlessly forgive this sort of thing, and Gordie didn’t want to just let it lie, especially given how stifled all their small talk was trying to avoid it.

“Wanna do this over coffee?” Gordie suggested, desperately trying to break through the awkward haze that had settled.

“ _What_?” Oliver replied shrilly.

Shit.

Had he just committed some fatal faux pas? He hoped to Arceus that Oliver wasn’t taking it the wrong way, suddenly aware that it had definitely sounded a bit like a cheesy come-on. Imagine that, lying to someone for months, ignoring them for months more and then trying to make _moves_ on them. 

How wasn’t Oliver leaving already?

“It’s cold here, we should carry on talking inside. There’s loads of coffee places around here.” He offered in explanation, ignoring that it really wasn’t that bad today.

Well, any worse than usual anyway. Anyone who’d grown up here could generally handle a bit of chill.

“Oh, are you okay? If you’re cold you should take my jacket.” Oliver said, fumbling at the sleeves.

Ignoring for a second that the jacket had no chance of fitting, it was a pretty sweet gesture and Gordie couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. Clearly Oliver was feeling incredibly awkward about the offer though, freezing up at the tap on his hand from Gordie.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you. Do you wanna head somewhere or stay here?” He asked.

“We er, we can go somewhere. Sure! Do you know anywhere good? I’m not super familiar with this part of town.” Oliver explained.

“Yeah, I know a pretty good place not too far from here.”

Turned out that ‘not far’ was relative really, because a fifteen-minute walk felt significantly longer when you were stewing in pure, unadulterated awkwardness.

But it was worth it, he knew from experience that the drinks here were to die for, or at least they were if you resolved not to look at the sugar content or the calories, lest you risk realising that you might actually die for them. Still, nothing he couldn’t make up for tomorrow at the gym.

Unfortunately, the place was packed, some locals, but mostly visitors from the looks of it, bundled up more than anyone else in the city, and taking photos of all their drinks before they actually took a sip of it. Not a rarity here, some of the baristas clearly had a passion for presentation, which had gathered the place a bit of a reputation as far as he could tell, though they clearly leaned it to it with décor that was obviously intended to be photographed, rather than be practical. 

Oliver had asked if Gordie had any recommendations for what to get, and Gordie forced himself to be restrained in his answer. Problem was, he’d tried a good deal of what was on the menu (which sort of counteracted the point of jogs that brought him by the shop in the first place), and he’d liked it all, though he was well aware his tastes ran sweeter than most guys his age.

Though once he found out Oliver had never tried chai, the chai latte was an obvious choice, hopefully making his palate look a _little_ less childish.

(He imagined the very decorated hot chocolate he ordered might have cancelled that out though.)

It was huddled around one of the tables, the sort where the wood had been intentionally made to look older than it was, sitting among steaming mugs not yet cool enough to drink, that Gordie finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“How’s everything been on your end? He asked.

“Alright, you know, same old same old.” Oliver replied, dismissively.

It wasn’t very convincing, but Gordie wasn’t about to press him on it.

The conversation was lapsing into quite mundane things, Oliver moaning about work, and them both talking a little about the ‘unexplained dynamaxes’ going on; though Gordie neglected to tell him that he’d had a close encounter with the cause of it. No use spilling secrets he should, by all accounts, not know, after all. Lying by omission was making him feel wretched though, considering his and Oliver’s history.

Worse, the man didn’t bring up his gym even once, and Gordie was starting to heavily suspect something was wrong.

He hoped he was just reading too far into it.

“Has everything been alright at your training sessions since I came last time?” He decided to ask, more directly.

Oliver looked so sad at the question that he immediately wished he hadn’t.

“We’ve sort of put a hold on it for now.” He admitted. “Kiera wanted to do something different for a while.”

“But what about your registration?” Gordie asked, stricken.

The whole point back then was that he was trying to help them while staying true to his own (his mother’s, he reminded himself) team at Circhester. Apparently he’d failed miserably at both.

“We missed the window for it.”

“Missed it how? Did something go wrong?”

He desperately wished they’d felt comfortable to come to him if they had any questions, or someone was dragging their feet somewhere, he knew he’d have done anything in his power to help.

This must have been the price of him breaking their trust.

“We never made the numbers.” Oliver explained.

“What? Did some of your members not want to join?”

It didn’t take all that many people to constitute a gym, Circhester was proof of that and it was in the bloody majors for Arceus’ sake.

“Well, we’d had some people in mind, but it er, it didn’t work out.” He stuttered out, and immediately Gordie understood.

Oliver meant him. 

They’d wanted him to join, they had probably been waiting for him to take the hint.

Unfortunately, Gordie knew he wasn’t all that experienced in the feeling of being _wanted,_ not that he was going to tell Oliver that. Wasn’t it bad enough he was throwing himself a pity party for someone else’s ambitions crumbling? He wasn’t about to try and drag someone else into it. 

It just seemed so obvious now, given how hurt Oliver had been once he’d found out the truth, as if Gordie had committed some heinous betrayal.

Joining an amateur gym for sessions wasn’t a properly binding thing, but if they’d planned to get him into a league team…

Well, finding out he was leading Circhester would have thrown a spanner into the works, putting it lightly.

Arceus, how had it come to this?

Another avenue he’d managed to flat out destroy.

“I’m so sorry things ended up like this.” He said.

“It’s alright, these things happen, it can’t be helped sometimes.” Oliver replied, not quite as calmly as Gordie imagined he’d thought it had come out.

It didn’t change what Gordie had done though.

“It’s not alright! I said I wanted to explain, and I do, it’s just hard putting into words.”

“You don’t have to. I get it.” Oliver said.

“No! I wanted to train with you guys, I really did. It’s just complicated, more so than you might think.” He tried to explain.

“Oh come on, everyone knows about the stuff between you and Melony. You don’t like Circhester, I get that, but you had to do what you had to do.”

“But you didn’t…” He began.

That felt like a slap to the face. Had Oliver researched him after that night? Or had Kiera or Liana told him more directly? They had a sort of direct link to Circhester itself after all.

“I know who you are Gordie.” Oliver interrupted, as if to suggest otherwise was an insult on his intelligence. “ I just didn’t realise you were _you_ when we first met.”

Fantastic.

Worse than being able to find out all of Gordie’s biggest regrets at the press of a button, Oliver had in fact already known, and just had to be given the clue of who Gordie was in person. He understood it, even if he wished it wasn’t true, his reputation wasn’t good in this city, and it tended to precede him, even if he didn’t have the sort of presence that world leave you starstruck in person.

It was delivering the awful reminder that his grandparents were gonna know all of his biggest disappointments going into that meet-up though, which was a deeply off-putting thought.

“Sorry… I hope that didn’t sound mean.” Oliver said, which meant his sudden turn of thought must have shown on his face somehow.

“You don’t have to apologise, I did all those things people remember me for. I can’t act all surprised when people bring it up.”

“I didn’t mean to bother you with it though… I think it’s kind of cool, actually.”

“What?”

“Come on! Standing up to one of the toughest trainers in Galar when you’re still a teenager? That’s cool.”

“She’s my mother.” He laughed, surprised that he could right now. “It wasn’t exactly a battle for the ages.”

He’d even bloody lost.

“Bet you’d win if you fought her this time though. Is that why you chose rock?”

For a split second, he was scared that Oliver was trying to collect information to stoke more manufactured rivalry between him and his mother, like people had done not long before their first fight. Though he quickly decided he was being paranoid, Oliver was a decent bloke and he hadn’t breathed a word of what he’d said before.

“No! Well, maybe a little bit, we don’t fight like we used to though.” He admitted. 

Something seemed to occur to Oliver then.

“Does it make it weird at home? You mentioned some stuff before and I wasn’t sure after if it was… well, you know..."

“It was true.” Gordie said, sparing him the need to finish. “Honestly, we make it work. We’re both stubborn, but there’s more to life to Pokémon battling, and we can provide a united front when needed.” 

Oliver was willing to drop that aspect of questioning into Gordie’s life then, seemingly satisfied.

Turned out they _were_ capable of casual conversation, once they’d got the major concealed truths out on the table. Though Oliver kept laughing at stories that Gordie honestly hadn’t intended to be funny.

It was alright, he supposed, despite all expectations to the opposite he’d had before.

But it had served to remind him that his grandparents were probably going in with low expectations of him.

After all, this was just yet another thing he’d broken and couldn’t fix, just one more door he’d closed for good, only this time he’d slammed it for everyone involved, and snapped off the handle for good measure.

Sure, Oliver didn’t hold a grudge against him for it, but that was because (for some completely incomprehensible reason) the man seemed to think Gordie was cool, and maybe even admired him.

Though he wouldn’t let him pay for both their drinks, even if he’d upset him in the first place.

Even if he hadn’t been socially clueless enough try and change his mind on it all, he still felt a little guilty by the time he returned home, avoiding questioning on the topic from his mother.

Not that she was super invested in it right now anyway, continuing her cleaning crusade in the face of a reunion that held much higher stakes for her.

Which was how he’d ended up dragged into her scheme shed.

“You were not kidding about cleaning this place out.” He said.

It looked almost like… a normal shed. With parts of the floor visible and everything. Though it made sense, he’d noticed more and more things he’d forgotten about finding their way into the house like old ghosts. The quilt had been the example he’d appreciated the most though, not sure what he’d do with shoes he’d owned when he was about ten.

“You were the one who said it made me look like a serial killer!” His mother defended, even though for once he hadn’t been making a dig.

Besides, it _had_ made her look like a serial killer. This was long overdue.

“No, I’m impressed… There’s actually floor space now. I get how we’d managed to lose all that stuff in here before though.”

“Oh, I’ve found way more just today.” His mother said, with an almost menacing glee.

“Why are you saying that like it’s a threat?”

She didn’t even respond, just shuffling some of the boxes until she found the one she must have been looking for, pulling out a stack of paper from inside.

No, not paper.

_Photos._

“How could you?” He moaned. “How do these still even exist?”

“Oh don’t be like that Gord, they’re sweet.”

No they bloody weren’t, his school photos were among them. The year seven ones were the worst, hair cut close to his head and absolutely drowning in his oversized blazer. Who had even decided that maroon and yellow was anything resembling an appealing colour combination in the first place?

Was it same person who’d convinced him trying out short hair would be a good idea? Because it hadn’t been, and it hadn’t served to make him look more masculine like he’d hoped at the time.

(Granted, once he grew it out again he was mistaken for a butch lady _even_ more.)

Upon looking through the rest, he realised his year ten one was similarly awful for all the opposite reasons, and he recalled that he hadn’t even bothered going in for his final year. Meaning that (thankfully) he only had four to contend with.

That was… workable.

At least his mom had never gotten them put onto magnets or any shit like that.

The rest of the photos were Opal’s baby pics mostly, with the odd sprinkling of him, sullenly rejecting any attempts the photographer must have been making at the time to get him to smile.

“These are blackmail waiting to happen.” He argued.

“Hmmm, only if you _really_ get on my nerves.” His mother threatened, practically cackling. “I was considering showing some to my parents, if we ever manage to arrange a time.”

Ah yes, _that_.

After the initial voice mail from her father, his mother had been in contact with them a few more times, mostly over texts, though he still wouldn’t go as far as to call it regular. They’d been going back on forth on what to do with meeting up, with them offering places to eat out partway between the two homes.

His mother seemed less eager, either because she’d be noticed in public, or just felt more in control with them coming to here, he couldn’t guess. Maybe it was even an attempt on her part to show them just how wrong they’d been about her prospects in life. He wasn’t sure it was constructive either way, but after what they’d done to her, he wasn’t about to start arguing in their defence.

The more pressing concern was figuring out what to do with the little three in the meantime. She hadn’t gone in depth about why, but their grandparents had basically refused outright, claiming they were unavailable for the foreseeable future.

She was acting like it was inconvenient at most, but Gordie could tell it had hurt her on a deeper level. Knowing you didn’t have the proper support of one set of grandparents didn’t exactly make it easier trying and approach the others. There were definitely some family politics he was missing here though, he knew, considering the kids had barely seen anyone on that side of their family since the funeral.

They were trying to be positive to prepare for the meeting though, and apparently being positive meant refusing to dwell on things like this.

Gordie caught sight of one of her ice stones as he was making his way out with a box of stuff his mother had deemed destined for a charity shop. Thinking of Vulpix, he shifted the box onto his shoulder, pocketing the stone with his other hand.

Just in case it came in handy, he told himself.

Once they’d taken enough boxes in that his mom was satisfied for the day, it was time to torture their next victims with baby photos.

Opal didn’t seem to mind them in the same visceral way he did though, which was good, but left him wondering once more if there was just something plain wrong with how he thought about stuff like this.

Not that he wasn’t aware of that for the most part anyway, it was just awkward whenever he had to confront the reality of it.

“You definitely look a bit like a melon on that photo.” He said, pointing to her as a toddler, round hair making her head look almost as large as her body. “I can see why mom got her name if she looked the same as a baby.”

It was weird to think he might be able to answer a question like that in a few weeks, when until now it would have been completely rhetorical. Unknowable. 

Eventually they ran out of photos of Opal, and had to begin upon the much smaller pile consisting of photos of him, which she got to make fun of without his mother coming to his defence now she’d gone to sort some of the other boxes they’d brought in.

Which meant lots of laughing at his short hair and awful uniform.

“You looked like Mondy when you were little.” His sister pointed out, looking at an even older photo. 

“I suppose I did, I was a lot older than him in those photos though, I guess I was just a bit of a runt growing up.”

Weird how that ended up.

“It’s odd how I’m the only one who ended up with different sort of hair.” Opal said, completely out of nowhere.

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t have the cowlick you guys have, and my parting is really different.” She explained.

She didn’t sound sad about it, but there was an undercurrent of _something_ there.

Something he wasn’t sure he liked the sound of.

“Huh, never noticed that. Yours is a bit thicker too from the looks of it.” He said lightly. “Trust me, the cowlick is annoying, eventually I accepted that I just have to style _around_ it.”

His sister must have been a bit distracted, agreeing absently, and her mind was clearly elsewhere.

Somehow he thought he understood what this was about.

People always told him he looked like his mother, and he knew a big part of that was that she’d worn her hair short at the start of career, and whenever he didn’t bother to style his own, their natural hair shape was indistinguishable.

Did people tell his sister the opposite? Something suggested to him she was pointing out differences that had been pointed out to her first.

He knew how much it could mess with you hearing that sort of comparison for years on end, something he imagined was all the worse for a daughter rather than a son.

It gave him an idea though.

Though he struggled to decide whether he should offer it or not, balancing what was a bad self-esteem moral, with what was just practical self-care.

“I could probably recreate the iconic melon head hairdo if you wanted to try.” He offered. “I’m a master of the hair straightener.”

Granted, not exactly the most prestigious skill for a guy his age, but nevermind. 

“What?”

“I could give you a cowlick and stuff, it’s fun to try out different styles occasionally.”

“I mean… It might be fun, but we’re meant to help mum sort through these.” She argued, gesturing to the photos strewn around the coffee table.

“If nothing else, it gets us out of cleaning.” He pointed out in return.

After that she hadn’t taken much convincing. Their mom would definitely be a little huffy that they’d abandoned their duty like that, but he reckoned it was worth it… until he actually started doing it.

It was easier styling his own hair than the hair of others, he’d quickly discovered.

He’d dragged a chair to near his mirror so she’d see what he was doing, but it necessitated him staying stood up to get a good angle, and he was constantly nervous he was gonna burn her.

Even brushing through her hair while he waited for the irons on the straighteners to heat up was a palaver, thick enough that hidden tangles were pulling ever few seconds, which clearly hurt Opal a little each time, though she was trying not to react to it.

Once it was brushed, they were ready for the fun part though.

“So what are you looking to have done today?” He asked, in his best impersonation of a hairdresser.

(Which, he was willing to admit, wasn’t very good.)

“I dunno, this was your idea!”

“Fine, fine. Dealer’s choice.”

“You’re mixing up your impressions.” She pointed out.

Little shit.

He may have been glad she was talking to him again, not that she had all that much choice when she couldn’t talk to the triplets about their grandparents because they didn’t know, or mom because they were afraid of upsetting her.

He could, however, live without the sass.

“Don’t correct the guy with the burning hot metal tools.” He joked, brandishing the straighteners.

It very quickly shut her up, though he could tell she hadn’t take him seriously.

“Wanna see how long your hair actually is when it’s straight?” He offered.

“Sure! I can’t remember the last time I had it straight.”

At that, he set off to work.

It was peaceful, doing stuff like this, and it reminded him of how much he missed taking the time to style his own hair in the morning. He just felt too weird, putting in that effort, when he was doing nothing afterwards.

Besides, even if it was more difficult, it felt more worthwhile doing it for someone else. 

“Do people tell you that you look like mum?” He asked, surprised at his own stupid mouth for blurting out something so awkward. 

“What? Like out of nowhere?”

“Yeah, I was just curious.”

“Er, No? Why?”

Crap.

It was gonna sound like he was trying to alienate her if he pointed out that she didn’t have the same sort of resemblance he had. Besides, she already knew it anyway, she’d been the one to point out that her hair didn’t match the rest of them. What he had _really_ wanted to know was whether people told her the opposite.

Only, asking that felt like outright bullying.

“Oh, I er, I just know people can be jerks about stuff like that sometimes.” He scrambled for a sane explanation.

She looked at him like he was babbling in tongues despite that though.

“People are mean to you because you look like mum?” She asked, looking as though she didn’t believe it was very credible.

Alright, granted, their mother’s appearance was generally received positively. But it was a universal truth that the same aesthetics didn’t work for everyone.

“When I was younger, yeah. Apparently some looks work better on adult women than teenage boys; who would’ve known?” He joked.

Opal didn’t seem amused though, and he figured she must still be considering the implications of what he’d asked before.

“People never tell me I look like mum. They usually think I’m lying, or just joking, when they find out who my mum is.” She admitted.

“Urgh, people are awful.”

She watched him oddly at that.

“No it’s alright, I know I take after dad. I’ve always liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re… we _were_ close.” She said, seeming a little choked up when she corrected herself.

Was this what had been going on? Opal had accused him of taking her father’s place in their lives, after all.

“It’s nearly ten months isn’t it?” He asked softly, though he was shocked himself at how quickly it was coming up to a year.

Which meant he’d nearly been back a year too.

“Everything’s changed so much.” She said instead of answering. “It’s like he was never here.”

He understood how she felt, he felt like he’d never left Galar at all, like all that time before was just a distant dream. It was unbelievable how quickly you adjusted to things that should reasonably shake you to the core.

Maybe it was a survivable mechanism. Change was natural, it wouldn’t do for people to break every time it happened to them.

It was also natural to hurt when things they’d loved were being left behind though, and Gordie could see in her face in the mirror that tears were threatening to come.

“Hey. Hey, you alright?” He asked, setting down the straighteners and pulling his sister into a hug before any tears fell.

“It’s just… so much is going on, and he never got to meet mum’s parents… and they’re never gonna get to meet him.” She began. “And his parents don’t want to see us anymore, so it’s just like we’re replacing them with these ones we’ve never met and… it feels _wrong_.”

“I get that it’s a lot, I’m a bit scared too. But mum loved him too, she’d never want to replace him, or his family.” He tried to reassure. 

“But you weren’t close to him in the first place.”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of confident truth.

“Were you closer to him than you are mum?” He asked.

Opal froze in response, silent.

“I promise I won’t tell.”

Her resolved seemed to crumble, and her face fell. Clearly she’d needed to say something about this for a long time, for it to all come pouring out like this.

“I didn’t love him _more_ or anything… we just spent more time together, mum’s always busy. I… I knew him properly.”

Their mom was busy because he wouldn’t run her gym, he knew, before forcing himself to throw away the thought. She could have quit at any time, it wouldn’t make sense for him to feel guilty over this, and then resent her for him feeling that way.

“I get it, it’s natural. I never knew my dad, so I’ve always been really close to mum. You shouldn’t feel guilty or anything.” He said, picking up the straighteners once more. “You ready?”

She nodded and he carried on.

“What did you mean your grandparents don’t want to see you anymore?” He risked asking, once they’d fallen into the calm rhythm of it, dragging the irons slowly through her hair. 

Their little heart to heart must have made her chattier, because she answered more freely.

“You heard that they said no when mum asked them to look after the little three, right?”

“Mhm.” He agreed.

“Well, they’ve just been different in general, on top of that.” Opal explained. “It’s like… dad was the only thing that really connected them to me and the triplets, and now that he’s gone… they just don’t feel close to us anymore.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. They adore you guys.”

“They’ve been _really_ distant.”

“Maybe something happened? I can ask mum if you’d like?”

“I don’t want her to know we’ve been talking about it.” Opal argued.

This was a tricky one.

He ran his hands through some of her hair, to find out how it was falling, while trying to figure out what he was supposed to do diplomatically in this situation.

“You feel like mom is bringing her parents back into her life to replace his?” He asked.

“No! I just… it feels like… it’s hard to find your place when it’s not how it used to be.”

That he couldn’t relate to. When they’d been a cohesive, nuclear-adjacent family he’d been the one unable to fit in, with no place. Though that didn’t mean he was about to let the same be true for her. 

“Yeah I get that, but you’re no less their family than I am, or you are for your other grandparents.” He argued.

“I know that. It’s just…” She trailed off.

“Just what?”

His sister looked defeated, like this was a confession being dragged out, rather than something she was finally able to vent.

“We both know I’m nothing like mum, inside or out. If dad’s mum and dad don’t feel close to us without dad to connect us, then how will I ever feel close to these guys if I’m not like mum in the first place?”

Well…

That was… a lot to unpack.

It was also no way gonna happen, but he got that it was hard to believe that, even if someone told it to her directly.

“Well, you know, mum got into a huge fight with them and ran off for decades… I’m pretty sure they’re not necessarily the most compatible people. But they’re trying to make it work, because they love each other. From what I heard, they’re gonna like you way more than mum, or me.”

“Oh yeah?” She said, sounding unconvinced.

“Yep, they’re both teacher types, and you know you get into less trouble in school than I did, or mum from the sounds of it.” He explained. “You’ll get on great.”

“Are you calling me a teacher’s pet.”

“Yep.”

She swatted at his arm, pouting, but not seeming sincerely annoyed at him yet.

“Take a look at this for me.” He said, motioning for her to look at her hair in the mirror.

Switching tacts was a valid tactic sometimes.

“Wow, that is… longer than I expected.” She said, seeming in genuine shock.

“Looks nice. I’m thinking the melon head might be a bit boring though, wanna try my old work style?” He joked.

“No! Don’t you dare.”

“Want do you want then? Because clearly you aren’t up for my trendy, unisex style suggestions.”

“I don’t know… it looks nice like this, but that seems a bit boring. You wanted to do the cowlick thing.”

She was running her hands through it, basking in the novelty of hair falling flat and smooth enough to do so with ease.

It was clear she already liked it, and was only entertaining carrying on because she thought that was what he’d want.

For once the feeling was tragically relatable.

“Nah, I don’t think you need to try it like mine, it looks nice. Not boring at all.” He said, hoping she’d take the hint.

Whether she’d took onboard the deeper implications of what he’d said or not, she seemed excited, trying to braid small plaits with the strands near her face.

Their mom was too confused by the sudden change in hairstyle once they finally returned to be angry at them for not sorting the boxes in the living room, which was a plus.

He wasn’t going to ask if she knew why their grandparents had said no, but it didn’t solve the problem that they had nowhere to drop off the triplets, so just flat out couldn’t arrange a date yet.

The longer they were stuck in limbo like this, the worse those stirring feelings of suspense that it would go wrong somehow seemed to build.

Ironically, the solution came at the one moment they hadn’t been looking for it. Most of the other parents from the triplets’ school weren’t brave enough to babysit three children on top their own families, but apparently Kabu was _exactly_ brave enough.

Gordie… hadn’t been convinced at first to be honest. No one was that nice, like seriously, _no one_. Except his mother had scolded him afterwards, pointing out that Kabu’s entire family lived regions away, and that he more than most understood the importance of making a time and place you could spend time with them.

Which was fair, even if he still wasn’t fully sold that the man with no children would survive an evening with a trio of extremely energetic children.

Worse, because of all the drama of the evening he’d forgotten to mention the ice stone and Vulpix again, losing the natural segue way into the topic that Ninetales being around brought.

At least they were actually able to decide a date now, though once he’d learnt which day it was supposed to be, everything seemed to be far more on edge for him.

Every knock on the door was them, even days before they were scheduled to arrive (it wasn’t as if they hadn’t had their address before either), the front entrance suddenly a dangerous beast that was going to let in something unknown.

Alright, so he _definitely_ had too much time to himself now that he’d stopped working for Opal, but he wasn’t just obsessing over this meeting. He was obsessing over plenty of other stuff too!

Stuff that just tended to drift back to the topic of the meeting, yes.

But it was just… a really big thing.

Which made it all the more uncanny seeing them for the first time; if only in the sense that they just looked like completely normal people.

Which yeah, it should have been obvious that they would have, but when he had only a nebulous idea that they had to exist, without ever been able to meet them, it felt completely natural that he’d apparently retained some strange ideas from his childhood.

Though now he knew that he would have never recognised them, had he somehow have miraculously encountered them on the street.

He could sort of see a resemblance to his mother, but it required actively looking for it, and it was mostly her mother, rather than her father. They were very non-descript, even if it felt a little dismissive to think it.

Average height, average frame (and seriously, had they just missed a couple of genes somewhere?), with hair that was silver rather than white, and gave Gordie the impression it had been darker when they were younger. Even if his mother hadn’t told him they were both involved in teacher, Gordie would probably have guessed that himself, they just sort of had the look for it.

They must have dressed prepared for the weather, he realised, in knitted cardigans and jumpers underneath their coats (which he took trying to leave a good impression), all in fairly conservative colours and styles.

It’s what he’d imagine the general idea of grandparents to look like, even if he hadn’t imagined his own looking like these people specifically. 

By all accounts, his mother apparently was a bit of an anomaly regarding their appearances, ironic considering that Opal had been a little bit put out by the same thing earlier this week.

He was probably being rude, he realised, just lurking back, and staring with coats; he should at least try and be friendly while his mother was making introductions.

It was a bit awkward from her too, she gestured to them to get Opal and him to speak, and he hoped his voice would work properly as he forced out the sounds to say hello.

“Would you like something to drink?” He asked, once they’d stepped into the living room, figuring it was the polite thing to do.

“A water would be lovely.” Her father said, which in Gordie’s opinion was just plain untrustworthy.

At least her mother was willing to take a tea, which gave him some to gather himself while he waited for the kettle to boil.

Opal joined him, ostensibly to help, but he guessed that it was mostly so she had the chance to process things too. Though, clearly he wasn’t doing fantastically, she grabbed some biscuits from the cupboard and he almost stopped her, wondering if it was gonna leave the wrong impression, before realising that he was probably just being borderline psychotic. They wouldn’t think any deeper about bloody biscuit selection, they weren’t royalty or anything.

“Don’t you think they’ll like them?” Opal asked, catching onto his aborted rejection.

“No, they’ll be fine, I was just distracted.” He lied, choosing not to subject his sister to a thought pattern nothing short of twisted.

In his defence, he wasn’t the only one completely overthinking this; it hadn’t escaped his notice that his mother had explicitly avoided all the options that would have involved a lapse of control on her part.

They both felt on the back foot about the whole thing he imagined, not even remotely helped by the fact that so much of their dirty laundry had already been aired across newspapers over the years; it made sense to grasp control where they could. 

No one was publishing her parents’ arguments, now were they?

He came in still feeling cotton-headed, focusing for now on just not spilling any drinks, rather than the wider reality of whose drinks he wasn’t spilling.

“Here, you go.” He said laying them down, suddenly worried he was being rude and blocking their view as he leaned to place them on the coasters.

Once he was done he quickly sat down, afraid he’d gotten way too close and crowded their space. Arceus knew what they thought of him for it, probably scared of the crushing risk if nothing else.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to be stuck inside his own head like this, constantly self-doubting and overanalysing, but try as he might, he just wasn’t finding any comfortable time to join the conversation.

Honestly, he didn’t really have much to say at all towards the start of the evening, though despite all of his mother’s fears beforehand, she seemed to be doing a good job keeping the conversation going.

No one was addressing the big stuff though, the things that might have had the potential to start fights, it was more of a ‘here’s what you’ve missed in my life’ update.

His relative quiet was giving him more time to listen, to really absorb what they were saying.

Throughout his life he’d had off thoughts of how differently things could have gone at various points, and his mother never leaving had always been one those. But hearing them talk now… it felt like he could have never really been part of the life they led.

It sounded pleasant enough, but it wasn’t him, and he could tell it wasn’t his mother either.

Her own mother was a headteacher now. Though they explained she had taught language and literature before, at which point his mother had felt the need to point out he’d taken that as one of his subjects at college, and he hadn’t had the heart to ruin their excitement by reminding her he’d mostly taken it because he wanted to keep his options open in absence of actually knowing what to do.

At least Opal was into that sort of stuff for real so far in school.

These things were easy to talk about though, who didn’t want to celebrate success? Most of the questions directed towards them were around what his mom was doing in the league now, how incredible her accomplishments were.

You’d be forgiven for forgetting exactly what circumstances they’d parted under, until topics of misfortunes came up instead, and the stark reminder that they hadn’t been there for each other at the time returned.

Like her father’s heart troubles, apparently the culprit of his quick reply to their delivery the other week, now having reduced his lecturing hours to part-time. It seemed that his mother wasn’t the only person who’d been reminded that they didn’t have all the time in the world to do this.

That was all alright for him to talk about though, even if to him it felt more like the life events of a stranger than family (though he supposed both were true in this situation).

Though it might have seemed callous, he just couldn’t feel their suffering as keenly as he did that of his close family. (His mother, mostly.)

Once the topic shifted to him, he felt decidedly less comfortable about the whole situation though.

“What do you do Gordie?” His grandmother asked, sounding more curious than accusatory.

Which made it worse, really.

What did he do after all?

Disappoint his mother?

Ruin the Pokémon training experience for himself and the people around him?

Sit around figuring out what sort of work he was cut out for where he wouldn’t manage to do either?

Would probably put a downer on the evening if he started listing it all, to be honest.

“I’ve been working up in Ballonlea recently.” He began instead, feeling it wasn’t a lie. “Pokémon stadium stuff.”

“Oh? Do you travel around multiple gyms then?”

“Ah… not quite. I don’t work at Circhester anymore.”

A silence settled at that, the pair catching onto the stifled vibe very quickly.

“Gordie looked after the gym for me after the funeral, but he’s his own man, and he’s ready to do things his own way.” His mother interrupted to diffuse the tension. “He’s gotten very good, I honestly think he could put up a fight against any trainer in the region.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh, I can’t even put into words how proud I am of him, what a wonderful young man he’s become.”

Rare praise from his mother, though he supposed she’d seen and Coalossal fight together a few times by now. His chest felt warm at it though, and he hoped it didn’t show on his face how much his mom’s approval still meant to him, even at this age. 

“I’ve switched from ice types though, so I can’t do it under Circhester’s name.” He explained, seeing that they still looked confused.

“Oh? I admit I’ve never understood the league rules all that well. Why is it organised by type rather than who’s local in the first place?” Her father asked.

“Well, someone decided ages ago that basing it on geography would just allow the richest gyms to buy the best trainers, and they’d be the only ones at the top of the league.” He explained.

“Of course, that just stops a lot of people joining the ones they want to because of how large the commitment would be.” His mother added.

“Doesn’t it ever get a little dull fighting the same types over and over again?”

“Definitely. Independent challengers make it more interesting though, although I suppose because they can use any type it can definitely put gym trainers at a disadvantage.” She explained.

“You at a disadvantage?” Gordie asked. “I use a type with five type weaknesses. Though I suppose I could do what the ‘dragon’ leader does, and just have next to no rock types on my team.”

Seriously, that gym’s roster had confused him since he’d first looked at it. From the looks of it their leader wanted it to be about weather, or balance, and hadn’t been given the permission by Rose, but just went ahead and did it anyway.

Either way, his mother laughed, probably because she always thrashed him regardless.

Bizarrely, he recognised the look that was passing over his grandparents faces at his and his mother chatter on the topic. The look of someone left out from the joke, someone who felt they were missing out.

Did they honestly want to be a part of all that? Even after seeing the messed-up fights he and his mother had started in the past?

Apparently yes, if the wistfulness on their face was to believed.

Probably wistful that they hadn’t gotten to see their eldest daughter grow up from a girl into a woman, regardless of the path her life had taken.

Their second daughter sounded nothing like his mom… her name was Galia, apparently another melon pun, though when he asked why they claimed they couldn’t remember how it had started. They mentioned her wedding a couple of years ago, going into rhapsodic detail about the ceremony, and then her husband and her two young kids of her own.

Clearly his mother hadn’t been invited, or informed about any of this.

It made the woman’s absence tonight feel very intentional.

Gordie wasn’t sure he wanted to meet that part of his family at all.

But he was beginning to be okay with the idea of getting to know this part better, seeing as they seemed to want the same.

That they were big fans of outdoor walks and hikes was definitely a bonus, more so when they didn’t flat out give him a look like was a filthy liar when he explained he was a fan of it too, for which he decided to show them through some of the photos from his travels still on his phone.

(Thankfully, he’d deleted the more embarrassing ones after the time his mother had made him show Kabu.)

They’d given him the promise that they’d take him on some scenic trails they were frequent visitors of back home, including one they’d claimed was full of interesting Pokémon, which he appreciated considering he was starting to get the impression they weren’t necessarily fond of them.

Apparently, his mother had only been allowed a Lapras because it had no fur, and even then she had been a strictly outdoors sort of companion.

On the bright side, it did mean they’d probably prefer his Pokémon to his mothers. After all, pet rocks were low maintenance, and his Pokémon were the closest you were gonna get to that.

Despite his greatest fears, he was finally finding common ground to talk about with them, to the point that conversations had to be left unfinished, to make sure they picked up the triplet’s from Motostoke before it was ridiculously late.

Their departure was a lot more friendly than their introductions had been, but once they were gone it became obvious how much of his mother’s energy that had taken, and his own, unsurprisingly.

A sort of melancholy had fallen over his mother though, which he couldn’t understand given that the reunion had gone as well as could have been expected.

Maybe she was just grieving lost time. Wasted time.

They were out later than they’d planned, so they opted for a taxi over the train.

The evening must have taken more out of Opal than they’d expected too, because it wasn’t too long until she was asleep against their mother’s shoulder. It was sweet, making her look much younger and more carefree than he knew she was awake.

His mother was smiling at the display, but Gordie could tell there was a clear sadness lying under it.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, so as not to disturb Opal.

“Hmm?”

“You seem sad, did you not have a nice evening?”

“I did.” She said, pausing. “I guess I just expected it to be different.”

“What did you expect?” He asked softly.

“I dunno… I just thought maybe it would _feel_ different. I thought maybe I’d finally have some closure.”

Unbidden, he thought of Oliver.

“Instead, you just figured out that some doors are well and truly shut?”

She looked over at him then, searchingly, though they were only fuzzy silhouettes until the lights from below would occasionally catch the windows, and illuminate them.

Give away what was really going on.

“Yeah… that’s a pretty good way of putting it, I guess. I’m never gonna have what I had with them, I’m never gonna get that time back… any of it.” She said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. 

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t make out her face, but her hands seemed restless in her lap.

“I guess whenever I imagined making up with my parents… you’re still little. And they get to shower you with attention, and it’s that perfect hazy version of raising a kid you’d see in stories.”

Rose-tinted glasses. 

“The way you wished it had all been?” He asked.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever change you… I just wished I could have given you a happier life back then.”

For once he hadn’t taken it personally. She’d spent enough time expounding his achievements earlier, that he was willing to believe she was prouder of him than she was anything she’d ever done herself.

But he knew she was selling herself short there, by his age she was a great mother and a great gym leader.

He hoped he could find the words to make her see that one day.

“I think we only tend to remember the things that went wrong; you know we’re both… cautious people. I remember being plenty happy as a kid, I don’t necessarily think it would have made all that much of a difference if they were there too.” He said.

Realistically his mother would have never lived a life like this with them there, something he was starting to believe would have been a tragic loss of both of them, though he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate hearing that right now.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides, I’ve been thinking about it a lot… since coming home, and more so since meeting with Oliver.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think it’s the end of the world if we can’t pretend things are like they were before… if something blew up, then it happened because there was a problem at the time. We shouldn’t want it to be like that, when it caused us pain in the first place… we should just see what it can be from here.”

They both needed to figure out what things could be from here, he knew as he said it.

“If they want to stay in our lives and you’re alright with it, then I’ll support you. Unconditionally.” He finished.

The silence that followed was peaceful, for once.

“Arceus, Gord, when did you grow up? It’s making me feel very old.”

Seeing how old her parents had gotten in her absence probably wasn’t helping her impression that time had passed without her permission or awareness.

“Did you mean all that stuff earlier?” He asked her.

Part of him expected her to play dumb there, pretend he could have been referring to anything but the obvious.

“Of course I did, I always will Gord.” She said instead.

Tonight, he was willing to let that be the end of it, to stop wondering all the ways he could have done it better back then.

Because he couldn’t do anything about them now.

All he could do was try and make something new, something better from what he’d learnt. He was sure his mother wanted to do the same.

He wondered if a version that was easier existed out there.

Though right now he felt like this one was alright, more alright than it had been in a long time.

They didn’t need to say anything else, both sleepily watching the lights from the cities below, not quite so distant as stars, but not feeling all that far off.

Ready to be taken someplace new.


	24. Nasty Plot

Things hadn’t really changed to any radical degree after meeting his grandparents, not that he had expected his entire world to shift or anything. It just felt… anti-climactic.

He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t trying to pin the source of all his issues on them, but he honestly thought things might have been easier for both and his mom if they weren’t so alone anymore. That isolation had defined so much of his childhood, of her career, that it had always felt like being able to rid themselves of it would fix whatever piece clearly wasn’t fitting. That maybe he’d finally feel free of the crushing weight of it he’d carried his whole life.

Of course things were never that easy though, were they?

Sure, they didn’t seem to think that his mother was a failure or that he shouldn’t exist; but nothing could change the past between them, and building on the present was tricky when they lived the other side of the region and were every bit as busy as his mom and him. The few phone calls here and there were just making all the faults in the foundations all the more clear, awkward scars that had to be avoided around every corner.

It was also becoming all the more obvious that his aunt wanted nothing to do with any of her sister’s family. Gordie was making a conscious effort not to obsess over the reasons why. It didn’t matter, why would he want someone in his life who didn’t want to be there? Why would he want them close enough to hurt his family?

He’d been trying to make himself think like that more often recently, in constructive ways where he just accepted that there was no way to make peace with everyone, and it wasn’t worth trying when the other side really didn’t want to.

If he didn’t accept it then he couldn’t move forward, because he couldn’t change his past either, and even if Oliver had forgiven him, Kiera definitively _hadn’t_ , and he didn’t even know how to broach something like that with the Circhester trainers, some of whom had practically raised him alongside his mother.

Granted, his freshest attempt at Pokémon training wasn’t going _that_ much better than his previous ones.

But this message seemed to signal that his luck could quickly be changing.

“You’re not seriously gonna meet up with her right?” His mother asked, staring at his phone screen over his shoulder.

“I don’t see the harm in it.”

“Sounds like a great way to get your organs stolen.” She rebutted.

“In the middle of Wyndon in broad daylight?”

Wendy didn’t exactly seem the organ-harvesting type anyway. Granted, she didn’t seem _all_ that far off from it; he certainly wouldn’t want to be meeting her at night or anything, she was definitely… intense.

Somehow he doubted that this meeting had a personal motive however.

“I don’t trust any of it Gord! You’ve run into nothing but trouble at that gym.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it was hardly Wendy’s fault.

“As opposed to Circhester?” He pointed out.

There wasn’t exactly she could say to disprove that, was there?

Even he had to admit that at some point you just had to accept that you were the one causing trouble, rather than the situations you were entering.

After all, literally every part of the tension in this new gym was caused by him.

Well, by him and Kiera, who was making it increasingly obvious that she didn’t want to reconcile.

Whose fault was that though? He’d given her the idea to start a league gym, it had even been his impact on her and Oliver that had indirectly led to the downfall of that plan for her.

It wasn’t all that surprising that they’d both gotten the same idea of heading to a more established rock gym afterwards. He just wished he’d been the one to get there first, before she could feed the leader poison about him. 

(How honest she was or wasn’t being about what she was saying was beside the point.)

“I just don’t get how you can keep pushing for this when they’re being so hostile for no reason!” His mom said.

Gordie wasn’t sure the hostility was completely unwarranted; he certainly didn’t have a fantastic track record with gym loyalty in the past, quitting Circhester _twice_ , and training alongside others, but he knew that they couldn’t just turn him away, he had more upper league experience that the rest of them combined after all.

So they were sort of at an impasse.

Wendy was second in command, and always seemed to be openly in his corner, giving him the strong impression that she was victory focused, which he could work with.

If he was just given the chance.

“Because I really, really want to help this gym.” He answered.

He did, but it was a bit more complicated than that he mused, knowing that deep down his mother was a part of this too. Until now he’d always battled according to what she wanted, or what Opal wanted, always looking for someone to guide him because he couldn’t find the way forwards himself.

Now he knew exactly where he wanted to go from here.

He knew he wanted to be a part of a gym where people cared about the Pokémon he did too.

More than that, he was fed up with other people getting to decide who he was without his input. Everyone had heard about the story of his and his mother’s fight from her side, and he’d never tried to put his version out there, not really.

He wasn’t about to let Kiera do the same; she’d had every right to be upset with him, but it was really wearing thin now, and for once he wanted people to understand the truth of what he’d done. Why he’d done it.

Sure, he wasn’t a saint, but he really didn’t think he’d been whatever manipulative bastard she’d made him out to be.

Even without explaining why, his mom seemed to have understood his conviction to this, accepting that he really had to try.

Though it didn’t stop her making sure he had GPS on his phone enabled so she’d know he had been attacked or something.

A thought that seemed all the more ridiculous when he actually met up with Wendy, in a sunny park full of children and cutesy Pokémon, that looked like it could have been on an overly saccharine show with ‘family friendly’ values.

She was _tiny_ , for one thing, far from the image of ‘stranger danger’. If anything he probably looked like he was the threatening one, looming a little and broad enough to dwarf her in comparison.

So why was he still so nervous?

“Look, I’m sure Kiera has told you lots of creative stories about me.” He began.

“Mhm, she did. I wasn’t really listening though.” Wendy interrupted, seeming blasé about the whole affair.

If any of it had bothered her, then she was doing a very good job of pretending otherwise.

“So, er, what exactly did she say?” He asked, worried that she’d have represented him as some sort of monster.

“I dunno, something about cheating on her sister with her best friend?”

For a split second, he felt he’d stopped breathing, before realising what Kiera had probably _actually_ said.

“She was on about Pokémon gyms!” He argued, surprised just how shrilly it came out. “I didn’t cheat on anyone, I didn’t do anything with either of them!”

Honestly, there was no fucking way Kiera would have said that, if only because she hated him too much to pretend he’d been seeing Oliver or Liana. The thought made him squirm though, and he hoped no one else had interpreted it like Wendy had; Gordie was awkward enough about… _romantic_ things without people thinking he was some sort of sleazy cheat.

“Hmm, that would make more sense. I told you I wasn’t listening all that hard though.” Wendy said, completely unrepentant in regards to his obvious discomfort.

In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn she was smirking, just a little.

“Is it true that you were trying to get them to set up a gym so you could bounce from Circhester if your mum wanted it back?” She asked, suddenly far more serious.

Is that what Kiera had told them? Is that what she thought of him?

He could feel his blood boiling at the accusation.

Seriously, he’d just been trying to help them out and he really didn’t think he deserved to be demonised for it, for her to automatically assume the worst in him. 

“I never planned to leave Circhester.” He said, trying to keep his tone even. “I just wanted to help them out.”

“That’s a shame.”

That wasn’t… what he’d thought she’d say to that.

Suddenly, he wasn’t liking where this conversation was going.

“Yeah?” He said. “Most people value loyalty.” 

“Loyalty to the right people. I don’t really care what you did to them to be honest, it doesn’t affect my life who’s telling the truth..”

“Then why go through all the trouble of asking me here if you’ve decided you don’t care either way?”

Usually he thought he was fairly good at figuring out what people wanted from him, but right now he genuinely couldn’t figure out her motives in the slightest.

“Because for all the things Kiera was warning Mac about, when I asked if you were at least good at battling, she couldn’t deny it.”

“You want to figure out if I’m worth giving the chance to?” He asked, trying to get his bearings once more.

Something, she clearly wasn’t willing to grant him.

“I want to figure out if you could take Mac.” She answered.

That honestly hadn’t been on the table for him. He couldn’t figure out where this had come from.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I could convince him to accept a match for the leadership.” She explained, as if that was the part of this he was taking issue with. “But I’m not sticking my head out unless I know it will be worth it.”

“Why would you stab your own leader in the back?”

At least she had the decency to look a little ashamed at his accusation.

“Because I know he can’t get us any further than this. I know he doesn’t want to.”

What the actual fuck had he stumbled into?

“That’s unfair, he’s gotten you further than a rock gym has gotten in years.”

“No, a freakish streak of luck got us into this league.” She argued.

“You’re being very ungenerous to your own teammates.”

She looked conflicted about it all, but apparently she wasn’t willing to back down.

“Yeah? What do you call it when the grass, ground and water gyms all manage to get themselves basically eliminated before our rounds?”

Gordie wasn’t sure what he would call that. Without being cruel, he’d already been able to tell that their gym was one of the weaker ones in the minors.

He just didn’t want to imagine that there genuinely wasn’t a better way forward than… well, _this_.

“You think I’m some sort of heinous bitch don’t you?” Wendy asked in the face of his silence.

“I never said anything!”

“You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your face.”

To be fair to this, what she was asking was a little (a whole bloody lot) heinous.

“Well, you are asking me to stage a coup because you don’t think your leader is good enough.” He pointed out.

“It’s not that he’s not good enough! That’s the whole point, it’s that he doesn’t care enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mac is always… hedging his bets.” She began. “I get it, I really do. He’s got a wife and kids and all those proper adult things to worry about, he can’t put it on the line for us, not when the minors isn’t gonna cover the bills.”

“But you want to go for it for real?” He asked. 

“Most of us do! It’s not fair to stay leader if you want to keep it as a side gig forever, especially when he knows so many of his trainers want the opposite.” 

“Then why don’t you challenge him? Or start a gym of your own?”

“I don’t want to be a gym leader! Half the time I don’t even want to be a gym trainer.”

That was far from encouraging to hear from the second in charge of a minor league gym.

“I mean… I don’t wanna say you’ve chosen the wrong career path, but…” He joked.

“You really don’t get it.” She said, without humour.

There was conviction behind her words, like she truly believed he was an idiot, incapable of understanding why she’d chosen this.

“Then please, enlighten me!”

She seemed more than happy to do so, self-righteously angry at him as if it were all his fault. 

“The entire league is an exercise in cronyism, I mean, you literally inherited the leadership of the third highest gym in the entire region! You have no idea what it’s like to try and enter as an independent if you don’t already have those connections, I’ve had to spend years training and battling just to get to here!” 

He knew that no one else would see him inheriting Circhester as a burden, as a horrible responsibility, rather than a gift. He also knew better than to argue the point.

“I don’t care if you think I’m selfish for it, getting my team into the majors is the only shot I’ll ever have of getting an endorsement so I can _finally_ battle on my own terms! ”

Ah, she wanted a shot at champion. That he _did_ understand.

“I don’t think you’re selfish.”

He really didn’t, he was surprised to find.

Arceus knew he could relate to the desperate hope that someone would find him worthy of endorsing, though he wasn’t sure if being so closely linked to someone who could have easily done so made it better or worse.

For everyone trainer like Leon or his mother who were lucky enough to get noticed, there were hundreds who wouldn’t, and Gordie wasn’t naïve enough to think that people like Rose weren’t considering someone’s marketability just as carefully as their battling potential. 

If you didn’t get noticed, then it made sense that you’d have to be brutal to try and claw your way from obscurity.

Maybe fighting Mac would make the man more inclined to take the risk on his team, and if he won… well, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

“I’ll help you.” He said. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try. Maybe we can talk Mac around.”

Wendy smiled. 

“Alright, you ready to prove you’re strong enough?”

“Prove?” He asked.

There was a catch, of course there was.

“Obviously, if it was just about talking it over I wouldn’t have asked you to come here.” She said.

“You wanna fight?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t be able to take Mac, so it wouldn’t prove anything. I had another guy in mind actually.”

She definitely was a bit heinous, and he hadn’t quite decided whether he was a victim or an ally. Because there was something in her tone then, and though it wasn’t ‘stranger danger’ sort of menacing, he wasn’t sure he liked.

He liked it far less once he actually met the guy she wanted him to fight, gathering in one of those mini outdoor pitches for recreational battles. It was deserted, and whether that boded well or not he couldn’t tell.

“Silver.” The man said, extending his hand.

There was no fucking way that was his real name, even the way he used it to introduce himself sounded stilted and awkward. Gordie returned the handshake anyway, knowing it really wasn’t important to stress the issue. 

“Gordie.” He introduced himself in the same taciturn fashion.

Everything about this guy rubbed him the wrong way. He reminded him a little bit of Chazza actually, though while that guy was a smug berk he never seemed quite as mean spirited about it as ‘Silver’. 

As they were preparing their teams he noticed that the guy only had a half full roster, and wondered if he was being deeply patronised or if his opponent just had that much faith in his team.

“You alright going three on four? I don’t mind you grabbing an extra first.” He offered, ignoring the fact that he technically had five.

Somehow he thought using Frosmoth here would give Wendy the opposite impression of what he was going for.

“No need, you should be grateful mate; consider it my way of making this fairer for you.” He goaded.

Ah, so patronised it was then.

Gordie really hated Wyndoners, even if he knew he was the last person who should be judging someone for adding a little theatrics to their matches. This guy just seemed to really believe what he was saying was the difference.

“Whatever, your funeral.” He challenged in response.

That seemed to signal a start for them; the smarmy douche sending out his first Pokémon, lazily tossing the ball as if he couldn’t care less how this fight went.

Though that was short lived, Gordie could sense the feeling on the field shift with the emergence of Arcanine, snarling as he leapt into position.

This would be easier than expected.

Well, hopefully.

It wasn’t escaping his attention that Wendy must have picked this guy for a reason, meaning there was bound to be something she considered would be a challenge for Gordie specifically, but if this guy was a fire trainer then what was that going to be? The Pokémon across from him didn’t look like it was terribly more experienced than his own and Gordie struggled to figure out where the man’s assurance was coming from.

Although Barbaracle seemed deterred, his opponents menace having it’s intended effect,

Intimidation was a dirty tactic, but as long as Barbaracle could fit in a shell smash or two to boost his attack back up it wouldn’t be a problem, especially not with two type advantages on his side.

Clearly the other trainer was thinking along the same lines, no longer fancying his odds quite as much now that he’d realised he was starting on the backfoot, switching out his Pokémon before Barbaracle even got the chance to pull off his first shell smash.

When his second Pokémon emerged Gordie quickly realised why he’d considered it worth losing the turn to switch.

Stoutland wasn’t a fire-type after all, unless some really bizarre breeding had been going on since the last time he was this far North.

The fact that Barbaracle wasn’t regaining his nerve to attack did make the theme of this guy’s team suddenly far more obvious though, if he wasn’t mistaken.

But really though?

“Have you just got a team full of Pokémon with intimidation abilities?" He asked, unable to hide how unimpressed he was at the prospect.

‘Silver’ seemed surprised that Gordie had caught on by the second Pokémon, but it was hardly an entirely novel idea; people made Pokémon ability teams instead of typed ones loads outside of the league.

Doing it around intimidate just felt a little.. edgy.

“Why do you care?”

“Just seems a little gimmicky is all.”

His opponent did not like that, quickly souring even further. (Impressive considering that he hadn’t exactly been friendly until now.)

“How is it any more gimmicky than picking all your Pokémon from the same type! Especially the _worst_ type.”

“Oi, no need to be rude, ice types exist you know. You’ve got me on the gimmick thing though, I’ll give you that one. It’s not gonna save you though.”

See? He could trash talk too.

Didn’t make you special.

Who was being the least original was irrelevant anyway, right now Barbaracle was set up to out-pace Stoutland, and Gordie imagined a powered-up razor shell was gonna sting regardless of typing.

He’d barely needed to shout the command, already seeing his Pokémon ready his claws, familiar dull glow gathering as he released it, cutting into Stoutland with brutal force.

Though he must have been a tough, little bugger because Gordie wasn’t getting the impression the attack had done much to drop his guard. 

In fact, it just seemed to make him angrier, charging forwards and catching the first even remotely soft part of Barbaracle he could find between his jaws, a sickening crunch splitting the air.

It must have been the thigh, Gordie noticed, glad to see it didn’t look in too bad a shape despite the appearance of the attack. Plus, luck mustn’t have been on either of their sides, because Barbaracle’s defence seemed equally unaffected. 

Brave little thing.

Was this just gonna be a test of who had the stamina to stick it out longer? Neither of them looked like even that first round had been easy on them, and Gordie wondered if he should’ve tried another shell smash before his attack, unsure that Barbaracle had many more rounds in him right now.

Another attack his way confirmed that he really didn’t, hanging on but clearly tired and close to collapse. 

If he only had then one round left then he’d want to go down fighting, Gordie knew; another razor shell was the only way to go.

His opponent must have wanted to go down fighting too, yelling commands at his Stoutland to take down Barbaracle.

Barbaracle was faster right now, of course, but Gordie wasn’t sure that this attack would be enough to finish Stoutland off.

Though it didn’t seem too far from it he noticed, after it had landed. Their opponent was left wobbling in place, even on four legs, looking back at his trainer before he could build up the nerve for an attack that would harm himself too. 

Gordie couldn’t stand that sort of strategy.

Whatever bond they shared must have granted him that courage, and he reared up, charging and descending on Barbaracle in a barrage of force.

There was no way he was sticking that one out, and Gordie readied the Pokeball for recall, ready to stop Stoutland further battering his already fallen foe. There was something almost languid about their movements though, attacking so harshly after so much had already been taken out of them.

The moment he saw Barbaracle legs go, he pressed the release.

With the weight of Barbaracle no longer below him, Stoutland himself couldn’t seem to stay upright, swaying and falling heavily, fainting from his own beaten-down fatigue.

His trainer called him back, not seeming surprised by the outcome.

It all felt far too callous for Gordie, like he didn’t even care that he’d commanded his own Pokémon to do that. 

Of course, it meant neither of them had the benefit of knowing who they’d be facing before they could choose their next Pokémon.

Well, Gordie reckoned he could take a reasonable guess.

This guy wasn’t exactly the most creative of sorts from what he’d seen so far, and there had been a very conspicuous absence on a team of heavy hitters with the ability to intimidate their opponents.

Although, if he did turn out to have a Gyarados then Gordie knew he was in a much tougher spot, considering that Coalossal and Pupitar were both at an extraordinary disadvantage against water types.

(Seriously, Pupitar evolving would be very useful, despite his apparent resistance to do so until now.)

Not that he didn’t believe in his Shuckle’s ability to look after himself, it was just… well, he’d probably need a bit of luck on his side too.

Though if it wasn’t a Gyarados then his team were probably shooting themselves in the foot a little bit by choosing Shuckle, he mused, trying to decide if it was truly worth the gamble; normally the little guy was more of a supporter and while that didn’t diminish his value on the team, it did make it risky placing him in battles if he couldn’t hold his own.

Still, if nothing else, it would be funny to muck about whatever did come out’s intimidate with Shuckle’s contrary, which would probably make it worth it in Gordie’s books.

(It didn’t seem this guy’s style to try and employ taunt tactics, so long as Shuckle could last the first round it would be fine, he already had a plan forming.)

So he sent him. 

Fantastic.

Mr Silver, very original Pokémon trainer _did_ have a Gyarados.

Who could have foreseen that?

The man in question’s eyes locked on his much smaller opponent, hardening at the sight of him.

Apparently he wasn’t willing to dismiss Shuckle out of hand though, which was probably the only point Gordie was gonna give him in his favour.

“Dragon dance!” He yelled.

(Gordie supposed you’d have to yell at a Gyarados, with it’s head being so far away from you and all that, which was a bit of a funny thought.)

The Pokémon began flailing, jerking it’s head in every direction, and suddenly he found it much easier to believe that it had once been a Magikarp; though the gentle, purple glow emanating from it, pulsating in time with its movements indicated that unlike it’s past self, this Pokémon was actually preparing to do something.

It’s body coiled, quicker and harsher movements than before, reading itself for a brutal attack in its next round.

 _Oh no, a dragon dance,_ Gordie thought dryly, _now it might somehow be able to outperform Shuckle’s famed attacking and movement prowess._

Not that attacking would have made all that much of a difference, Shuckle would have been able to withstand a direct hit, even from a Gyarados. This guy probably just wanted to get a position to knock him out in a single hit, in case Shuckle had rest.

In another fight, it might have even worked in his favour.

What a shame for him that this wasn’t another fight.

Because that strength boost was probably gonna be a little less impressive after Shuckle stole half of the rest of his strength.

“Power split!” Gordie commanded. 

Of course, Shuckle had already begun the process, the clever little bugger, understanding what had been intended from before Gyarados began his movements. Whatever source of psychic power Shuckle drew upon for attacks like these… it took him a little while to get going. But that was fine, Gordie believed it was worth waiting sometimes, for the better things.

This was definitely one of those things.

It was a little strange honestly, he felt he could almost see some of the power draining from Gyarados’ frame, though Shuckle wasn’t really looking particularly more fearsome for it.

His opponent, on the other hand, was looking very, _very_ pissed off at the whole performance. 

Sort of the entire point, really.

“Waterfall!”

Bugger, the speed boost was useful after all.

Gyarados had managed to be on Shuckle before either of them could react; summoning torrents of water, almost comically huge compared to their tiny target.

At least, it would be if it wasn’t bothering Shuckle so much.

“Stone edge!” He yelled in retaliation.

Watching the ground itself splinter under Shuckle’s small form, fissuring into piercing stones that surrounded Gyarados, Gordie once more couldn’t hold back the thought that rock types were just… better.

How could anyone not see that this was more impressive than what water types did? Anyone with a hose pipe could pretend to be doing waterfall.

The roars of their foe abruptly cut his train of thought short, and Gordie was a little surprised to see how much that attack must have taken out of him.

He hadn’t really intended to choose a super-effective attack, always managing to forget that Gyarados was a flying type, technically. Probably because it made no bloody sense. After all, how was Dratini a dragon type and not a water type, while Gyarados was a water type and not a dragon type?

Baffling.

Nevermind, right now it meant that Shuckle’s stone edge was had packed a nastier punch that it might have otherwise. He supposed what they were really testing was the mettle of Shuckle’s defence versus Gyarados’ health.

Maybe it was naïve on his part, but Gordie was actually favouring his odds right now.

Though, granted, Shuckle was not the fastest of Pokémon and by the time he was manging to fit an attack in, he was inevitable already drenched and battered, though Gyarados was also a bit slower than expected too, the inevitable result of having to thrash his way out of Shuckle’s stone prison... repeatedly. 

Clearly, this fight was dragging out longer than ‘Silver’ had intended, and he was feeling victory slip from his grasp a little bit more every second.

When Gyarados finally fainted, leaving Shuckle still standing, they both knew he had already lost.

Not that his little friend would be able to take on Arcanine right now, power split would have worn off when Gyarados fainted Gordie knew, and this guy wouldn’t be foolish enough to give Shuckle a single chance to use it again. He’d put his most powerful attack out first thing, and he’d be fast enough to knock him out.

It wouldn’t be fair to let that happen, Shuckle had done incredibly, he deserved a break. 

Besides, either of his other pair would be able to handle Arcanine effortlessly, and honestly he was a little surprised that their opponent hadn’t just rage quit on the battle yet.

Ordinarily he’d choose Coalossal, but he was well aware that he had to be careful not to get a reputation for it; he’d used him for almost all the major battles he’d been seen in since he rescued him in the first place.

He couldn’t help it really, even after everything that had happened, Gordie still felt that they’d found each other by something almost like fate. They just worked perfectly together.

But if you brought your ace out for every situation then it wouldn’t be special, now would it?

Plus, he didn’t want Wendy to think he picked favourites, he loved all his team equally, and trusted Pupitar to get the job done expertly.

He did.

It didn’t take very long this time, despite Arcanine putting up a more than respectable front.

Honestly, Gordie hadn’t had a fight quite like that in… a long time.

How had he forgotten what he was missing?

Being here with Pupitar made him feel like when he’d first caught him, still only a Larvitar back then, choosing to do so on little more than a whim. It brought back that feeling of knowing he’d stumbled into something really special.

Larvitar had changed since then, obviously, but Gordie couldn’t pretend he hadn’t too.

Only, Pupitar was left with the promise that there was still something greater ahead of him, that he was on the right path because he was becoming what he was always meant to be.

Gordie _wished_ he had that assurance.

He made his way over to Silver, extending his hand for another handshake, to try and make sure there were no hard feelings.

(Of course, there were always hard feelings.)

He slapped a small wad of notes into Gordie’s hand instead.

It really must have been a very long time since he’d battled, because it took him a split second 

“Wait! I think we’ve crossed wires, I was going for the handshake, you can keep the money. It was a friendly match right?” Gordie offered.

Apparently that was _exactly_ the wrong thing to say, somehow.

“I really don’t need your pity.” He said. “Just take it and go.”

Though, that was sort of undermined by the fact that he walked off instead. Sort of undercut the dramatic vibe he was going for. 

And if Gordie heard him say ‘fat prick’ under his breath, intentionally loud enough to be readily audible, then at least he wouldn’t feel bad about the guy losing money anymore. 

He just wished he was sharp enough to have had a comeback before the guy was out of earshot.

Well, no, Gordie wished that he hadn’t said it in the first place, and that Wendy hadn’t heard too, but in terms of _realistic_ wishes, he’d take what he could get.

At least she wasn’t trying to comfort him, or bring it up at all.

Maybe it just wasn’t a big deal to her, maybe he was like that every time he lost.

He didn’t seem like the gracious loser type.

“Thank you! I have been waiting years to bring that loser down a peg, but his Gyarados is a pain in the arse.” She said instead, looking genuinely enthusiastic about the whole thing.

“Wait… Did you seriously have me fight this guy just because he’s a trainer you don’t like?"

He honestly wasn’t sure if that made this better or worse.

“Well he’s also pretty strong… not that you’d know from watching you whoop him like that.” She said amusedly. “I’m sure it’s hard to imagine that we don’t get on, given how… _charming_ he is.”

He snorted at that, and she began laughing outright.

It made it easy to leave the snide comments behind as they left. Maybe he’d even use the guy’s money to buy something nice to eat, a double ‘fuck you’.

“You could make a decent living doing that.” Wendy said.

“Unofficial fights?”

“There’s a bunch of local guys, who’ve basically set up their own mini league.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, the higher up the fights the more they pay.”

“And you’re intentionally being super vague about so I can’t snitch on them?” He asked, getting directly to the point.

“Huh, guess you’re not as dumb as you look.” She said, sardonically.

He chose to ignore it though, knowing she wasn’t being serious.

“Are you in it?” He asked instead.

“Nah, it’s a bit of a sausage fest, to be honest.”

“But that guy Silver is in it.” He said, knowing she wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.

“Mhm, a lot of them don’t use their real names, base it off colours and stuff like that. Don’t want people to try tracking them down after losing a bunch of money to them.”

“Ooo, knowing I’d get to have a silly nickname makes it tempting.” Gordie said, words dripping with sarcasm.

“I suppose that’s not an incentive for someone with a silly real name.” Wendy challenged in response.

She’d gotten him there.

Normally it wouldn’t seem like a terrible idea, getting paid and getting to train against highly competitive trainers, but he knew his mother would be… less than happy if he took it up.

Apart from the obvious ethical implications of this particular pastime, she’d outright told him she didn’t want him to worry about money while he was pursuing stuff here in Wyndon. He could barely stand feeling like a layabout, feeling like he wasn’t contributing like he should; but she was adamant that this wasn’t a fight worth having (though, when had that ever stopped them?), insisting that she had more than enough to help him out and that he’d earnt some annual leave from all his years at Circhester growing up.

He appreciated that she was trying to spin it to his concerns, but he didn’t necessarily believe it.

But he wasn’t about to hurt her feelings by pulling something like this.

“Why don’t we focus on seeing if we can make things work at the gym instead?” He offered.

“So you’re saying you’ll fight him?”

“Yeah. I am.”

Even as he said it, he knew that it was the wrong thing to do. Just because it was the nature of the sport, it didn’t mean he had the right to steal the fruits of Mac’s hard work from under him.

But he couldn’t do nothing, not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive. Small time skip here, hope it's coherent what happened between - I just really wasn't feeling writing the stuff that occurred between the last chapter and here.


	25. Might make right?

“Shit. Off-line.”

Again.

Of course, he was being overly generous with himself there. There was off-centre, and then there was somehow managing to slip off of the mat during the course of his landing.

“A little, yeah, but don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m impressed that you stuck that landing, your pass sustained a lot of power this time.” Larissa said encouragingly.

Which wasn’t all that helpful, honestly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her attempts to soften the blow when he’d done something wrong, it was just starting to feel like it was detracting from working towards improving it.

He didn’t want praise for something he’d cocked up.

Though he thought better of saying as much to her, having figured out that her ‘coaching’ was a largely informal arrangement. The other week he’d even spotted her filming for Chazza and his little group while they were competing against each other to see who could perform increasingly more elaborate flips. 

Again, it was a strange deviation from everything he’d ever known training growing up, even though he logically understood that people here were doing it recreationally, and that most of them were more than happy to do it their own way without any help.

Gordie knew better than to turn down coaching when it was offered however, a lifetime of experience teaching him that nothing could beat it, regardless of how polished you believed you already were… and he knew he was far from polished when it came to any sort of formal gymnastics.

Larissa never seemed to mind; he’d go as far as to say she actively enjoyed working someone who wanted to learn more… _proper_ technique. It made him wonder if she ever got to work with competitive gymnasts, though if she did she’d never mentioned it.

He reckoned she’d be good at it.

That was something he’d thinking about a lot lately, the idea of what actually _made_ someone a good coach. In fact, since Wendy had confirmed that Mac had agreed to a match for the leadership of his gym, Gordie hadn’t really been able to _stop_ thinking about it.

Because what if he won? What if he won, and everyone acknowledged he was a stronger trainer, but they still all thought he was a horrible coach? A failure as a gym leader?

Arceus knew he didn’t have the best track record at this sort of thing.

(Though the exact circumstances had been far from ideal, if he could blame that instead of himself.)

Either way, none of the courses he’d had to take to qualify for gym leadership in the first place had ever prepared him for something like this.

He reckoned there was no harm in searching for lived-in experience instead, in this sort of situation.

“What do you look for in a coach?” He asked Larissa after yet another lacklustre pass that she chose to pretend wasn’t.

“Is that some sort of euphemism? Because I have a boyfriend.” She joked.

“It wasn’t a euphemism!” He felt the need to defend, though he was fairly sure that she wasn’t being serious. “I just know that you’ve been coached and coached people yourself, so I was interested on your perspective on it.”

On the one hand, he was glad she felt they were close enough to mess around, like she’d heard her doing with Chazza and some of the others… But he also wasn’t sure he was necessarily equipped to handle it.

“Okaaay… You are aware that it’s a bit of a weird question from out of the blue though, right?” She asked, with a sort of confused smile that suggested to him that she thought he was insane.

“It’s just work stuff, don’t worry about it.”

“You can’t say ‘don’t worry about it’ and not expect people to be like, ten times more curious afterwards.”

Maybe she was right, but it really wouldn’t do to announce his plans to basically perform a coup on someone else’s league gym, even if there was an almost sub-zero chance of anyone travelling from Wyndon to this specific place.

Even his mom had found the premise brutal, and she was well inured to how the league worked. Of course, no one had ever successfully stolen her place, and he knew she’d have utter faith in him to beat this gym’s leader if he wanted to.

(He hadn’t been brave enough to ask Kabu for his perspective, as someone who _had_ a lost a gym.)

But he was getting the impression he wouldn’t get any of Larissa’s input on the topic unless he was willing to dish something first.

“Well, basically, someone wants me to replace their team’s current coach… and I’m just not sure if the others there would prefer me or this other guy.”

“This is Pokémon training stuff right? You never told me you coached people!”

No, he most certainly hadn’t. For good reason too, making it all the more difficult to do so now.

“I’d taken a break before… honestly, I’m just getting back into it.” He explained, hoping it would suffice.

“I gotta admit I’m not exactly an expert, I don’t know if I’ll be much help.” Larissa said, shrugging plaintively.

“I on the other hand, will be fucking great at helping.” Gordie heard a voice from behind them interject.

Fantastic.

It was strange to hear any of Chazza’s friends before the man himself, prone to… loudness as he was.

Though when Gordie turned to face them, to assure them that they wouldn’t be any bloody help at all, he realised that it was only Ronnie today, meaning they were at least spared the ever-staring eye of the Chazza’s camera.

Not exactly his first choice for this kind of conversation though.

“I think there’s some background information you need to make a fair judgment here Rissa.” Ronnie said, turning to her with an expression of pure glee.

Gordie really wasn’t looking forward to whatever he had planned that was causing it.

“I don’t remember asking for your input.” He challenged.

“Oh come on Gordie, don’t be like that!”

“He’ll probably be a better judge than me.” Larissa agreed.

Just like that he was outnumbered, he knew.

Though, he couldn’t stop the crawling under his skin at the sudden fear that Ronnie might know who he was.

It felt arrogant, obviously the man had just overheard them and decided to add his input… which wasn’t unusual for him or any of his friends.

But Oliver had said it back when they’d met up…

 _Everybody_ knows. 

That was an exaggeration, yes, but within Circhester it wasn’t exactly rocket science to make the connection of who he was.

After all, there really weren’t all that many chubby, white haired league trainers in the city, were there? He and his mother had a distinctive look, if nothing else.

“I feel like you need some help with the lingo.” Ronnie explained, unaffected by Gordie’s dread. “So, the first thing to know is, when he says ‘replace’ he actually means ‘defeat and humiliate in front of their entire gym’.” 

“That’s not entirely fair-” Gordie tried to interject.

“Oh, right? What part did I get wrong?”

Granted, the only part Ronnie had missed was that most of the time, it wasn’t _just_ the gym trainers watching.

Gordie thought better of mentioning that though.

Larissa looked a little bit appalled at the explanation anyway, and Gordie forced himself not to squirm at her scrutiny. It was just… a little uncomfortable to see how people less familiar with league customs reacted to stuff like this.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know that it was unfair, but it was how it had always been. How was that his fault?

“And more importantly…” He continued. “When he says ‘this other guy’, he’s really talking about his super hot mum.”

Shite, he did know.

Bloody fantastic.

“I am not!” Gordie argued.

Seriously, he’d quit Circhester twice, in fairly explosive ways no less. How weren’t some people getting the message?

Though he quickly realised he should probably address the comment about his mom, having gotten distracted by the accusation that he was trying to take over her gym.

“Also please don’t say crap like that about my mum. It’s creepy.” He added, trying to be a little more civil this time. 

He hated the thought that Ronnie mentioning her meant that Oliver might be right. So many people clearly remembered his and his mother’s fight; and that was _all_ they remembered about him.

His mistakes.

Even if the Wyndon-based trainers hadn’t known, Gordie was sure Kiera had told them everything, but somehow made it sound even worse.

Would any of those trainers really want _him_ as a leader?

“Wait I’m confused.” Larissa interjected. “Are you beating up your mum or not?”

“I’m not beating anyone up! And my mum works for a completely separate gym to the one I’m on about.”

“How did Ronnie even know she was a trainer too? I didn’t realise you guys were so chatty about this sort of thing.” She challenged, seeming a little put out that she’d been out of the loop.

Completely in vain, considering he hadn’t said a bloody thing to Ronnie. 

Seriously, how had the conversation come to this so quickly? All he’d wanted was some advice, not some miserable satire of his own life story.

“I didn’t tell him anything… my mum is, er, pretty well-known.”

Larissa quirked her eyebrows at that, while Ronnie just seemed incredibly amused at his expense, suggesting that it had been very obvious that he’d been withholding a lot there.

He quickly glanced around the space to ensure no one was nearby and eavesdropping … well, nobody else anyway. This was more than awkward enough already.

Apparently he was just making himself look guiltier though.

“Wait, is that meant to be some sort of secret, big guy?” Ronnie asked. “Because, like I hate to break it you but…”

“Oh, sod off.” He snapped.

Arceus, he knew the guy always tended to mean well, but Ronnie didn’t half make his skin crawl sometimes. He honestly wasn’t sure what was worse, the lame nicknaming or the reminder that loads of people in Circhester were aware of him precisely for the things he was most regretful and embarrassed about in his past.

Not that he was doing it on purpose, he couldn’t possibly know how touchy this stuff was to him.

Neither of them did, given their gobsmacked expressions at his outburst. 

“Sorry, that was rude of me… It’s not a secret. I just find it awkward to talk about all that stuff.” Gordie explained. “Hence why I don’t, and why we should stop!”

“His mum is that ice leader with the huge-” Ronnie began whispering conspiratorially to Larissa.

Gordie glared at him, daring him to finish the sentence.

“-Hair.” He said instead.

Though the switch was less than convincing, considering he was miming tits in front of his chest throughout his description.

Arsehole.

“I have no clue who you’re on about, but I’ll take your word for it.” She answered diplomatically. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, I was just a little surprised that you’re basically famous.”

“I’m not famous." He stressed.

At most he had local notoriety because of the time he quit Circhester.

Well… _times_. 

“I mean, I knew who you were.” Ronnie pointed out smugly.

“If you knew from the start then why didn’t it come up until I was already talking about this stuff?” Gordie challenged, not entirely convinced he hadn’t just guessed based off of that and his resemblance to his mother.

“Be grateful mate, I figured it wasn’t my business!” He said. “Can you imagine if Chazza found out? He’d constantly be trying to get you to ask the gym leaders to endorse his channel.”

Oh Arceus he would, wouldn’t he? Though, it was actually a relief that there was one person he knew he didn’t know all of his past mistakes by default.

That was an unexpectedly considerate move on Ronnie’s part after all.

“I’d hate if this place got busy, it’s basically impossible to find gyms decked out for tricking. So if you do end up taking over some poor sod’s gym, for Arceus’ sake please don’t become properly famous or anything.”

Ah.

He hadn’t wanted Chazza to overpublicise this place with celebrity endorsements, that made more sense. Ronnie was getting a little ahead of himself though, Gordie hadn’t won yet, and he really doubted he’d ever be a ‘celebrity’ gym leader even if he _did_ take over.

That was alright. This time he was determined to fight for his teammates and to further the reputation of rock types, he didn’t need to be scared how the public would feel about him anymore.

(He was sort of hoping that would become true, if he just thought it enough times.)

“If it’s so hard to find a gym like this one then maybe you guys should actually be training in it, instead of chitchatting like old ladies.” Larissa challenged.

Gordie could recognise an obvious attempt at changing the subject when he saw one, appreciating the gesture nonetheless.

His gambit to figure out what a good coach was had definitely backfired though… Larissa had been the only coach he knew who:

A: Wasn’t his mother.

B: Didn’t think he was a knob.

But he’d probably managed to kick her out from the second category now, considering what she’d seemed to think of the league’s leadership challenge.

Though if she did think he was a bastard for it, she was professional enough not to say anything while he practised a few more passes.

Unlike Ronnie, who wouldn’t stop with the exaggerated whopping sounds. Again, Gordie knew that while it was sort of a joke, he wasn’t being belittled or anything… All of this guy’s friends did it to one another after all.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the noise turning way too many people’s attention to them, and he struggled to bear doing this sort of stuff while being watched.

Seriously, why was Ronnie even still here? Was he lonely, or just bored?

The whole point was that this was something Gordie could do without being the centre of attention, where there wasn’t that constant expectation to be better that he’d grown up with.

“Why don’t you take a turn?” He suggested to Ronnie with that in mind.

“Yeah, alright.”

Something that Gordie could appreciate about Ronnie, and Chazza too for that matter, was that if nothing else, they were willing to give things like this a try. Gordie was always reluctant to try out something unfamiliar in front of a crowd (granted, two people didn’t exactly constitute a crowd, did it?), terrified that he’d humiliate himself by getting all of it wrong.

It wasn’t even that those pair were convinced they were gonna get it perfect first time, they just… didn’t really care if people saw them fail. Were always willing to get back up again.

Gordie couldn’t imagine being able to live like that.

Watching Ronnie now was a bit odd though, because while he definitely had better conditioning than him for this sort of thing, he didn’t have that sort of elastic quality that Gordie had been training months to keep developing.

Seeing someone else do it, he felt he could finally appreciate the progress he’d made, no longer relying on just power like Ronnie was. Not that there was anything wrong with that, after all, he’d definitely be better at the tricking style stuff he preferred than Gordie was.

But it was… gratifying, even if he felt petty for it. It was just nice that he was finally getting better at the parts he enjoyed the most, he supposed.

Tricking was satisfying, he could admit that, but for Gordie it felt sort of… purposeless.

He liked doing things that had an end goal in mind, and while he knew he was way too old (and heavy if he was being honest) to actually compete, the structure of official gymnastics events gave him a framework to base longer sequences off of, and introduced the idea of technical merit.

(What could he say, he was too competitive, even if just against himself.) 

Track tumbling was perfect for him, in large part because he didn’t have enough faith in his upper body strength for the bars, rings or pommel horses to be even remotely enjoyable. He supposed that left the floor too, but that always just felt a little too big.

It was weird how he felt more trapped in the sheer space of the floor, instead of on a narrow track; lost and purposeless there in a way he just never found himself so long as the landing area was in sight.

What were you even meant to do between elements on the floor? Larissa had assured him that only the women’s events had the little dance portions between… but Gordie was certain he didn’t have the rhythm for the floor regardless. He’d just be killing time between his actual manoeuvres, and feeling ridiculous doing so. 

But the track… no movement felt wasted there, and the run up was small enough that he didn’t feel embarrassed doing it in front of other people. Even the crunch of the springs was enjoyable, a sensation he imagined was like the sound of a thoroughly punished punchbag for boxers; a sign that you were carrying your power through.

It didn’t even need to be him, hearing the sound from others doing it and watching them propel themselves through was thrilling, and he was seriously considering tracking down where regional contest were held so he could start watching top level competitors.

Though someone like Ronnie who was literally just doing it for a laugh was still exciting to watch.

“Sorry, should I be making funny noises?” Gordie suddenly asked as he watch Ronnie land with a flourish.

“Har-har.” He replied flatly. “You seem more like the guy who would grab the scorecards and start judging.”

Was he saying that because of Circhester’s reputation for severe training? Or did Gordie just give off judge-y vibes?

“I don’t think I’m good enough to go around scoring anyone.” He pointed out.

“Oh come on big guy, now you’re just fishing.” Ronnie laughed.

“I really wasn’t.”

“Right…” Ronnie said, watching him closely. “You know you’re a proper crazy perfectionist then?”

“I’ve been told that before.” He admitted wryly.

Problem was, after a lifetime of having it drilled into him that nothing he did was _quite_ good enough, it didn’t sink in the same way. After all, even if he was a perfectionist, it’s not like anything actually ended up the way he’d intended it, did it?

“You gotta try and lighten up.” Ronnie said amused. “You’re good! You know for a fact if people off the street saw you they’d be bloody impressed.”

“Thanks. Plus, I’m not gonna get judge-y. It was a pretty nice pass for someone who only knows like half of the rules.” He joked. 

At some point Larissa must have left to assist some of the other people training, and while usually he’d feel lost having been thrown to deal with Ronnie alone, today he found he didn’t really mind.

When he wasn’t divulging sensitive (though apparently commonly known) details of Gordie’s life to people, he really wasn’t all that bad. Definitely more manageable than when he and all his friends were together.

It was… fun, he supposed.

Definitely felt more tired than usual when he was ready to leave though, having pushed himself just that little bit harder out of some pointless but deeply ingrained sense of competition in him.

“Hey Gordie, sorry I wasn’t much help earlier.” Larissa said, catching him on his way out.

“No! You don’t need to be sorry, I know it was a weird question anyway.”

An awkwardness was lingering between them, and Gordie could tell there was something else she wanted to tell him.

Finally, as though choked by the weight of the silence, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“This isn’t my business, and you don’t need to talk about it. But I kind of get the impression you have… some things that make you unhappy about how you were trained, before.” She said.

What was he supposed to say to that? Clearly she hadn’t realised that his mother was the one who had coached him his whole life. They’d only mentioned she worked at another gym after all.

There was something too painful about admitting that he did resent her for how she’d trained him growing up, a small part lingering even after all this time.

“I only bring it up because…” She paused, searching for words. “I feel like maybe you asked for advice because you’re scared you’re gonna repeat their mistakes?”

He thought he was better off focusing on not repeating his own first.

“Maybe.” He said, more just so he didn’t leave her in silence.

“Well, I thought on what you asked and… I don’t think we can copy all the things we think make other people good at teaching. We’re not them and it just wouldn’t be the same, you know? I always try to just _not_ _do_ the things that coaches did that made me feel terrible as a trainee… I dunno if that helps at all.”

Made _her_ feel terrible?

It made sense he supposed, that she’d suffered because of how she was trained too. People didn’t tend to ask questions like the one she had unless they were basing it off some experience of their own after all.

He hoped he hadn’t dredged any of that up for her.

It really wasn’t his business.

But in spite of how selfish it made him feel for it, it did give him a little hope to see that even if that were true, she was using it positively. She’d even been able to coach him for Arceus’ sake.

Maybe he’d be able to use his own mistakes positively too, possibly even the parts from before that still hurt. 

“It does help… Thanks.” He said, not sure he had anything more he could say about the situation.

But he knew what he was planning to do wasn’t right. 

This isn’t right, he’d remind himself whenever he found a moment of quiet travelling home or out.

Or when he went to sleep, left finally with only his thoughts.

Or worst of all, when he turned to the gym ready to start the battle in spite of his own conscience, surrounded by accusing eyes.

Minor league gyms always left him a little ill at ease even at the best of times, if only because they were similar to Circhester, but just a little… off.

For instance, why did minor league trainers have to flip their dynamax bands? He’d been able to wear it upright even when he wasn’t in a league team full stop. It was a stupid rule considering most minor leaguers didn’t have them in the first place.

Plus, most of the stadiums were just the old outdoor ones that used to be used by the majors until they’d upsized, making it feel a bit like this league was just… an afterthought.

He didn’t like to feel like he was just judging them for not being what he was used to, but it all just felt odd.

One difference he did appreciate though, was that crowds apparently weren’t interested in minor league leadership challenges, the audience he could see being made up of faces he vaguely recognised as training here anyway.

They didn’t look excited at the prospect. 

This wasn’t right at all, he was once more reminded.

So why wasn’t he stopping?

His doubts only got louder as he sent out Barbaracle, watching him face off against Mac’s Drednaw.

A nice opening choice.

Why was Gordie fighting someone who for all intents and purposes seemed to be on his wavelength when it came to battling?

It wasn’t right!

No one else seemed to think it was either, and he could tell that they were disappointed each time one of Mac’s Pokémon fainted instead of Gordie’s.

Made it much harder for Gordie to feel optimistic each time it happened.

And it was happening more often than the reverse.

Drednaw and Onix were downed with… some trouble, but nothing that worried him all that much, but once he’d downed Rhydon, he was starting to feeling a little bit anxious.

He was winning.

He was winning and most the _people_ watching seemed upset at that.

Though he’d spotted Wendy’s eyes, and caught the gaze of a few other people who seemed intrigued rather than despairing at the prospect of their leader losing, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

(He pointedly avoided glancing towards Kiera.)

Some people would quit if he won, probably. Others would resent him, even if they wouldn’t outright leave.

It was far from conductive to leading a gym.

But, he really couldn’t see any version of this in which Pupitar and Coalossal wouldn’t take down Mac’s Gigalith.

“Can we call half time on this?” He blurted out, anything to stop himself admitting what he was really thinking.

“This isn’t a footie match!” Someone yelled from their little makeshift audience.

“Okay. But I would _really_ appreciate a break for just a few minutes.”

Because he was scared that he was going to end up doing something deeply stupid otherwise.

But Arceus, he sounded like he was taking the piss, didn’t he?

Adding insult to injury, or something like that.

“You look a bit pale. Don’t want you collapsing on us.” Was all his opponent said, sounding far less threatened by Gordie than his supporters did. “If you need some air, we can postpone.”

“Go with him and make sure he isn’t cheating!” One of them suggested.

Gordie had to restrain himself from pointing out that he was winning, and had no bloody need to cheat.

Wouldn’t exactly endear him to any of them, now would it? 

Mac went along with it though, probably just so he wouldn’t have to talk to any of them while he was losing.

Which meant they were just outside the pitch… alone.

This was, upon reflection, a dumb idea.

Not even the leadership challenge part, though that hadn’t exactly been the pinnacle of rationality and intellect on his part.

Letting himself be left alone with the guy he was subjecting to all of that was somehow even stupider though. 

Seriously, what was going to stop Mac from just… punching him in the face or something? The dude had to have at least half a foot on Gordie, and looked as hard and cragged as the Pokémon he trained alongside.

He needed to fill the silence somehow, before it crushed him.

“Let’s revive our fainted Pokémon!” He suggested, louder than he’d intended. “Not to bring them back in or anything… just to check they’re alright.”

Right.

Probably should have said something a little more… meaningful than that.

Mac was watching him like he was an idiot as it was.

Maybe he was an idiot.

“Why are you doing this?” Mac asked, sounding equal parts tired and pissed off.

“Erm… Do you mean, reviving.. or like, the battle itself… or _pausing_ the battle?” He asked stiltedly, not sure what words wouldn’t be rubbing it in.

Arceus this was awkward.

How was this _worse_ than being punched in the face?

“Let’s start with the pausing part. I think I can take a guess at the rest.”

 _Do you know your second in command asked me to do this?_ Gordie considered asking, before thinking better of it.

Either way, he knew he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Because this isn’t right.”

“No. It’s not.” Mac agreed.

There was an almost dangerous slant to his words, and Gordie still wasn’t fully convinced that this wasn’t going to end with him getting punched.

“I really didn’t want things to happen like this.” He tried. “I just-”

“I bet that’s real strange for you, isn’t it?” Mac interrupted.

“ _What_?”

“Not getting what you want. You expected to get your own way, and the second you didn’t you’ve hitched a fit.” The man challenged. “Well guess what. It doesn’t matter how things worked back home, I’m not your mother and I’m not gonna give you special treatment.”

Well then.

The fuck was his problem?

Unless special treatment was being pushed harder then anyone else because he was the only trainer who couldn’t quit, then he was unfamiliar with the concept; and Arceus knew it had never mattered what he’d wanted when it came to Circhester growing up.

Gordie was fed up with people deciding they suddenly knew all about him, without understanding a single thing about how he’d lived.

Part of him wanted to yell exactly that in Mac’s face, or finish this fight and be done with him, let him decide what he thought of Gordie then.

But they’d get nowhere if he did, he knew.

“No need to get personal.” He said instead.

“Oh, you think I’m getting too personal? Rich coming from the guy trying to steal a gym I’ve been working with longer than he’s been alive.”

“I’m not trying to steal anything! I just want to help!”

“Help? You’ve only just joined. I honestly don’t get how entitled do you have to be to think you should be running the whole show after a few weeks!”

At this point Gordie was sure that Kiera would have barely needed to say anything for Mac to hate him. The man seemed to have decided that he was some spoiled brat with an agenda the second he walked in.

Everything he’d been trying to fight against people assuming his entire life.

“I’m only doing this because I was asked to!” Gordie yelled, caught up in a fit of anger at it all. “Maybe worry about what your own trainers want before deciding what I’m after!”

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew immediately.

It was too far.

What if some of the others had heard?

Worse, Mac definitely hadn’t known; it was written all over his face.

Crap.

Seriously, what had possessed him to say that? He had _been_ in Mac’s shoes not even a year ago, Arceus knew that he’d have had a bloody breakdown if Melony marched in a told him his trainers asked her to usurp him.

(Which was unfortunately close to what _had_ happened.)

Mac didn’t look far off one himself right now in fact. Not so much fighting rage, as genuine heartbreak.

Gordie felt like the biggest piece of shit alive.

“I’m sorry. That was a low blow. And it wasn’t like that.”

“ _Were_ you asked to do this by my trainers?” Mac asked.

Bugger, he sounded so bloody sad.

So… defeated. In a way he hadn’t even seemed back when he’d been losing their match. 

If Gordie lied now though he’d undoubtedly make himself look terrible (if he was even believed in the first place that was). But he wasn’t about to snitch on Wendy, he could still see where she’d been coming from, she wouldn’t have known Gordie would blurt it out and hurt Mac like this. 

“Well… technically _one_ person asked, but it was a ‘they’d spoken to a few other people first’ situation I think. Definitely a minority though, that thing I said about your trainers wasn’t fair. And I shouldn’t have said yes.”

“Did they say why?”

That was… an interesting question. One that Gordie was sure could make or break this whole thing.

Again, the intrusive feeling that others were just… better than you in some way you couldn’t put your finger on (or that people saw you as inferior) was not a foreign sensation for him.

Desperately, he wanted Mac to understand that it hadn’t been like that.

“I guess I just… have less to lose. They know you have other stuff on your plate… so I suppose they thought I could throw more of myself into the gym, maybe they thought that would make a difference.”

“Right.” Mac muttered, so quietly that the sound was almost lost.

“Don’t take it to heart. I think it’s easy to say that sort of thing when you’ve never had to lead. I didn’t mean to drag that up… I just didn’t want you to think I did this because you didn’t think I was special enough… and I shouldn’t have been swept up in this.”

“So you were just doing this out of the goodness of your heart then?” He asked sarcastically.

Gordie was willing to forgive a little curtness, considering what he’d done though.

Maybe it was just worth being honest.

“I don’t know. I get how I must seem… and I don’t know what Kiera has said to you. But I think I just want what everyone here wants.”

“Okay, that’s great. Really lovely and… poetic and all that. But you had a gym, and from what I can gather, you _quit_. Why? You ran the whole fucking thing.”

Gordie knew it wasn’t worth trying to explain the emotional baggage he and his mother held over Circhester. Being basically raised in the major league was a sort of privileged position most people couldn’t even imagine… they wouldn’t care about what it had really cost.

The lack of control he’d had over his entire life.

“It was never really mine.” He settled for.

“But my gym could be really yours?” Mac challenged.

Which was… fair.

“No. That’s why I called a stop to all this! I’m really sorry, I’ve been where you are and I know that it’s hard… I’ve had a really weird year and I’m just fed up with everyone who’s seen a single snapshot of my life deciding they suddenly know everything about me.”

“What are you on about?” 

Right. He’d gotten a little off topic, hadn’t he?

“I just mean that, my history with Circhester… my fight with my mum, it’s always been this big thing that people define me by, and I can get more antagonistic than I mean to when people start making assumptions about it… or me.”

Gordie was used to training with people older than him, and usually he didn’t really let stuff like that bother him. But there was something about the way that Mac was watching him that made him feel very young indeed.

“Honestly, I’m not gonna lose sleep over what you did as a kid… I do wanna know what happened with you and Kiera though.” He said.

Great, she _had_ given Mac her version of events. Not that he hadn’t known as much already.

“Look, I don’t know what she’s told you, but I only took over Circhester because I had to. My mother was widowed, and I’m the only person she felt comfortable taking over her gym so she could finally grieve and spend time with her other kids, I literally couldn’t say no without being a monster.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Mac agreed.

“But if my having a giant fight and leaving home didn’t give it away, that place makes me _miserable_. I… I didn’t discover a proper love for Pokémon battling until I left and starting training rock types. I hadn’t realised that it was meant to feel like… _this_.”

“But you went back anyway.” Mac said, not quite a question.

“She’s my mother! I get that we have issues, but I’m not a sociopath! I thought I’d be able to grin and bear it, and that maybe she’d feel up to taking over eventually.”

That earned him a quirked brow.

“In the meantime, I thought that maybe it would be easier if she wasn’t there… take some of the pressure off. But there was just… this vacuum in her wake, and most her trainers were too scared to let me try and do anything differently. I guess it just wore me down.”

It sounded insane to try and explain why he’d needed to train rock-types, but if this guy had been doing so for decades, hopefully he’d understand.

“I know I’m not great at the politics aspects, but getting to train alongside my Pokémon… it’s like medicine for me, it rights everything that’s wrong in my world while I’m doing it. I looked for a rock gym, so that I could train and actually enjoy myself again. I found Kiera’s, and when I realised that she wanted to go pro, I thought that if I could help her achieve it, that… well, maybe I’d feel a bit better about not being able to go for it myself.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to keep the truth a secret.” Mac said flatly. 

“I didn’t want Circhester to know I was conflicted! I didn’t realise they’d care about me beyond seeing me a few hours a week. But, well, her friend sort let on that they’d been planning to ask me to join, and clearly I’m a fucking idiot because I just… missed the signs. I know I’m a prick for lying to them when I was training, but I never had any malicious intentions, I swear. For what it’s worth anyway.” 

“It’s worth a fair bit actually.” Mac said.

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm. Don’t know why’d you lie when you could just rip the gym from me with brute force. You’ve proven that.”

Right. They were technically still mid-fight, weren’t they?

At least he hadn’t been punched so far.

“I’m, er, sorry that I was going to.” He added, for good measure.

“Was?”

“Yeah. Consider this me throwing in the towel.”

“Alright. All’s forgiven.” Mac said.

He couldn’t be serious.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Well, I’ve been well aware that someone could do something like this from the second I was promoted… better to have a nasty scare instead of just losing my gym outright. It’s where we go from here that I’m wondering though.”

“There’s a from here? Seriously, if… _this_ had just happened to me, I wouldn’t want to see the other guy ever again.”

Wait, why was he pointing that out?

But there was a sort of resolve clear in the rough lines of Mac’s face, the earlier traces of defeat from when Gordie had told him the truth fading.

“I guess we’re lucky that I’m still then leader then.” 

“Right.”

Honestly, he hadn’t imagine things could go this… smoothly?

He supposed this wasn’t exactly _smooth_ per say, but his efforts hadn’t careened of a cliff and burst into flames yet, so he was considering it a victory for now.

“This might come as a surprise to you Gordie, but I don’t like the ‘politics’ stuff of the league either.” Mac said dryly.

It wasn’t a surprise, like, even remotely; he looked about as prepared for social niceties as his bloody Pokémon did.

At least that was something they had in common.

“But I reckon you can use your majors experience to help me try and make some sense of all this.” He finished. 

Shit.

Was this really happening?

Had Gordie managed to fight someone into hating him _less,_ for literally the first time in his life?

“I could help get you into the majors, two seasons max.” He challenged, remembering why Wendy had asked him for help in the first place.

Clearly even the slightest hint of approval had gone straight to his head, making him giddy with it.

“That’s a big promise.” Mac laughed. “Why don’t we focus on getting a feel for the minors first?”

Right. Wendy had mentioned he was cautious about promotion.

Gordie knew he shouldn’t rush things.

If Mac wanted to put his experience to use, then that was already big progress.

Of course, when they actually explained that they’d called the fight off and were going to try and find a compromise, it was difficult to tell who was more pissed off between Kiera and Wendy.

Neither of them had anything to say with everyone else listening, however. 

But Gordie reckoned he ought to track down Wendy to explain, not that he really got the chance to.

“What the fuck was that!” She hissed, once he’d finally managed to get her on her own.

“Hear me out.”

“Didn’t you say something like that last time?"

“Well, my actions get misinterpreted a lot!” He tried to defend.

“You went directly back on what you’d promised. How can I ‘misinterpret’ _that_?” She asked, not bothering to conceal her contempt.

“Because I’m still gonna get you that endorsement.” He explained. “If I took over and everyone got angry and left, then we had a zero chance of getting to the majors. But Mac has agreed that we can try and coach the team, so we can try and get them to that standard… it’s a better chance for you than if I’d gone ahead with it.”

Plus, it would have been morally reprehensible to steal the gym of a guy who’s only just been promoted to the minors, but he wasn’t going to point that out considering it had been her idea.

That version seemed to have mollified her for now anyway.

“So what? You’ll just let him take the credit for your work?”

“It’s not like that! We’ll be working together… Besides, being the face of a gym is overrated, trust me.”

“Right, so you’re just stealing my role instead then.” She said dryly.

Somehow, he didn’t think she meant it, she wasn’t exactly the biggest team player after all. Plus, she’d wanted him to take her boss’ job instead.

“Well, you gotta make sacrifices to get what you want.” He risked joking.

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t seem bothered.

“Then this better be worth it.”

Maybe it was naïve on his part, but Gordie honestly believed that it just might be.

There was just… a sense that thing could be peaceful, when he phoned his mother on the way back, immediately bombarded with questions about how it had gone.

It felt good to say he’d managed to solve it without a fight.

Almost good enough to ignore the conflicted feeling in his chest that he hadn’t gone ahead with it.

_Almost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that the cast of minor characters seems to grow ever larger haha, I suppose part of it is that I want to make the world feel lived in, but like I promise there is actually like, a plot, that will make most the introduced groups relevant.


	26. Getting a Measure

There was something incredibly rewarding about being able to tell Ronnie and Larissa that he’d managed to resolve the gym problem peacefully, though with Chazza there he’d kept it suitably cryptic.

Of course, he’d explained the whole story to his mother, and then to _her_ parents, the pair of them always apparently eager to hear what was going on his life. At least now he could finally tell them something, getting the impression they’d thought he was some sort of layabout who wanted to leech off of his mother forever.

Finally he could prove to everyone that he actually _wanted_ to do something with his life, a gratifying feeling if nothing else.

That was about where the positives about this whole situation stopped.

Well, maybe he wasn’t being _strictly_ fair; there were a fair few benefits with their new setup.

For one thing Gordie genuinely enjoyed getting to teach again, he wouldn’t have lasted even the six months he had at Circhester if he didn’t like coaching. Only now, he wasn’t being forced to teach a bunch of people who wished he was his mother in a field he had no true passion for, and he wasn’t just sitting idly by while Opal did everything in her power to _avoid_ teaching.

He was doing something that even half a year ago would have seemed impossible.

The problem was just… the company.

Alright, so maybe he was being a _tad_ dramatic… not about Kiera, who genuinely seemed to hate him more each day instead of less, but Wendy had moved on from the way the leadership challenge had gone down, and Mac was… well, a mixed bag.

He only had the _one_ annoying habit really. 

Unfortunately, that one habit was being able to pinpoint with superhuman accuracy _all_ of Gordie’s annoying habits, the ones he’d spent two decades not even realising he had until they were mentioned.

Typically, the second one was he found he immediately couldn’t stop fixating on it.

There were the petty things, where he was fairly certain Mac didn’t actually mind and was just ribbing him because that’s how men were supposed to bond or something. _Apparently._

Stuff like his ‘fidgeting’, or his supposed fixation on how his hair fell ended up in that category. (Though he was certain he’d somehow gathered a reputation for being vain because of the latter.)

But then there were the things he’d really rather not admit about himself. 

For instance, apparently he was very bad at remembering names. It wasn’t even as if Mac was bringing these things up to be mean, he’d just ask Gordie to grab a specific team member for something every now and again, and it hadn’t taken him long to cotton on that Gordie more often than not had to triple guess himself on who that person was.

Mac had made a joke, off-hand, about how Gordie could remember hundreds of Pokémon he’d never seen, but couldn’t remember even 30 names of people he saw almost every day. 

It being a joke hadn’t stopped him feeling like an inconsiderate prick, he knew he wasn’t the best with people anyway.

But Circhester had never had all that many trainers, how was it his fault? Besides, whenever new ones had joined, they’d usually left soon enough, like a conveyor belt of people being scared off by his mother.

He was trying, he honestly was; he knew all of their faces, he just… sort of thought of them as ‘that guy with the ___’ and the like in his head.

It was a work in progress.

Of course he didn’t offer his Circhester explanation, knowing that one: it was a lie, he was just extraordinarily crap with people, and two: it would inevitably lead to the second thing Mac found annoying.

Mac hadn’t exactly said this one directly, had stopped himself in fact, probably knowing how it would be taken. But he wasn’t great at hiding his responses, almost rolling his eyes every time a story Gordie was telling was entirely unrelatable to everyone else in the room.

He fucking got it alright, a lot of his life experiences stank of privilege.

Thinking about it like that always made his skin crawl, it felt unfair somehow… like, if it had been such a privilege, then how had it made him so bloody miserable? But he knew he was being petulant there, he didn’t really have much right to feel short-changed when even what he did get from it was more than anyone else in the gym had ever gotten the chance to experience.

Not even just in the money sense, though potions and vitamins and the like quickly added up, he knew. Time was the real overlooked luxury, no one else being able to imagine not worrying about having a ‘real job’ in case you couldn’t make enough to live from training, or even more ridiculously, having even your school prioritise Pokémon training for you growing up. 

That gap was more obvious here than it had ever felt in Circhester, alienating even though he knew no one was ostracizing him over it.

If he’d been leader they would have, probably justifiably too, the guy who’d been there the least time deciding to run the show just because he could, because he’d already been given more chances than they could even dream of. 

Gordie wondered if that’s how the others had felt before, when he’d taken over for his mother. He wasn’t really the most recent trainer there, but he hadn’t attended in years… he may as well have been considering how much had changed in his absence.

It was easier before, when he could blame it all on him not being Melony and believe it.

Yet he knew that being strong enough to lead a gym wasn’t enough here.

There wasn’t really any doubt that he was the most… _formally_ experienced trainer, but Mac had picked up a lot of anecdotal experience in caring for rock types that Gordie hadn’t come across, and was very popular amongst his trainers, in large part because he’d spent years getting to know the way they liked learning.

Which, as it turned out, was rarely in line with Gordie’s own version of educating, and Gordie would go as far as to argue, wasn’t necessarily how they learnt _best_.

“They will never get better if they’re not challenged.” He pointed out, after Mac made him lighten a training session.

_Again._

“Yeah? Well they’re not gonna get better if they’re bullied into quitting.” Mac rebutted.

“It’s not bullying! It’s just training.”

“Oh, right. This how you grew up training then?” He asked dryly.

Playing it that way? He’d wish he hadn’t, considering Gordie hadn’t suggested anything nearly as harsh as his mother’s methods.

“No...” He began, letting Mac think he’d won this round. “I did this _and_ had to go through courses filled with wild Pokémon and pitfalls, in freezing temperatures.”

Years of it were worth it in this moment, if for no better reason than to be able to hold it over someone in an argument.

“Since I was like, _five_.” He added for emphasis.

He’d expected that little eye roll he always got whenever he was being incredibly niche, but Mac was wearing a look of dread at his story and Gordie was suddenly reminded that his daughters probably weren’t far off that age. Maybe he’d been a bit mean in bringing it up.

“You worry me sometimes.” Mac said, only half joking.

Honestly, even though Gordie was aware that his upbringing was… deeply abnormal, he was often caught off-guard by just how foreign it seemed to be to others.

“It had passed league safety checks.” He reassured, trying to add a little levity.

“That worries me more!”

“I saw you being literally crushed by an Onix this morning.” Gordie pointed out in rebuttal.

Something that wasn’t a rare occurrence either, the leader for some bizarre reason enjoying play fighting with Pokémon many times his size and weight. 

“We were just playing!” Mac argued. 

“I’m pretty sure wrestling a rock type is a form of masochism.”

“Have you even tried it? They know to be gentle.”

“I’m not buying into that.” Gordie laughed. “Wrestling a Coalossal sounds like a fantastic way to get bashed _and_ burnt.”

“Well, if you’re not open to new types of training, I don’t get how you expect us to be.” Mac joked.

That was usually how this sort of thing went, him shutting down Gordie’s more… ambitious training ideas by trying to prove that Gordie wouldn’t like it if the shoe was on the other foot.

Only today, something must have been playing on Mac’s mind, because for the first time since Gordie had met him, he did something truly unusual.

He bent.

“Do you _really_ think that they’ll learn better with your original session plan?” He asked.

That…. wasn’t right.

Seriously, was he concussed?

What else could have changed the mind of a man every built has stubborn and steadfast as a bloody boulder?

“Is something up?” He asked, too ill-at-ease at the change in Mac’s tone to seize his victory.

“Nothing scary, don’t worry! We just… have our first non-friendly matches set for a month from now.” He explained, as if saying it casually meant he’d be able to slip it into conversation without it being noticed.

Not happening, obviously.

“Why do you sound so sad about that?” Gordie asked.

“It’s against a grass type gym.”

Crap.

That was a rough start, to say the least. 

“That’s fine!” Gordie lied. “We’ve got a month to prepare for it, we’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I know.” Mac agreed, seeming every bit as unconvinced as he was. “Oh! Before I forget… it says we need to submit profiles of our team, but they haven’t really explained what we need for that. You in the know?”

Unable to stop himself, Gordie groaned.

Great, possibly the worst part of league battling.

Paperwork.

“Urgh, Yeah. Honestly it’s a waste of time, unless two competitors matched almost perfectly to ability are fighting.”

Probably not the right ethics to be passing onto fresh league trainers, but nevermind. It wasn’t as if he was wrong, was it?

“What’re they looking for?” Mac asked.

“Information on all the Pokémon in our teams, height, weight, IVs, EVs, nature and stuff like that.” Gordie explained.

Mac had a lost look on his face, no doubt confused at how the fuck any of this would be achieved, because how often did people need to calculate these things? It was the sort of thing Gordie imagined would be much, much easier with a Pokedex; but it wasn’t as if they were just handing those out, so they’d have to do it the traditional way. 

“It’s not as scary as it sounds, Pokémon like Onix will probably have to be professionally measured, but the lighter Pokémon can be weighed on regular household scales, and we can take all the heavy ones to a place with heavy duty ones.”

“The lighter rock type Pokémon?” Mac asked sarcastically.

Right. Not really a thing for the most part, was it?

He was thinking like a bloody ice trainer, a bad habit.

“Fair point.” He conceded. “It might be worth renting a huge scale, and the equipment for testing IVs and EVs, and getting all the trainers who want to compete in here, to profile and register at the same time.”

“Should we get it out of the way soon? Or wait until closer to the day so they don’t change in the meantime?” Mac asked.

Again, there was the right answer, and then there was the answer the league board would try and convince you was right.

Gordie wasn’t falling for that though.

“Better to make sure you can get the tools we need, I think the only thing at real risk for change is the EVs, and as long as I know where they’re all at now, I can keep track of progress after that.”

Mac was watching him like he was speaking a different language at that though, which felt unfair considering that for once he really didn’t think he’d said anything unreasonable.

“Wait… Are you saying you can just work out the EVs in your head, no matter who they battle in the meantime?” Mac asked.

Oh. 

Maybe he was being niche and condescending again then.

“I mean, I er, know the common ones.” He explained, unsure why he suddenly felt so embarrassed about it. “I can look up the rest, we’ll just need the trainers to keep up a training log… Which would work really well with my training sessions.”

Not exactly smooth, no, but if the guy was a bit shaken because of the upcoming matches, then it was worth pressing him over the classes.

“Look.” Mac began, seemingly at great pain to himself. “If you help me out with all this profiling stuff, we can try your _uncut_ sessions for… a week, and maybe extend it if no one quits in floods of tears.”

In spite of how he knew it must have looked, Gordie couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face.

“Deal.”

A pretty good deal too, considering how quickly they’d been able to track all the equipment needed when they phoned around to look for it.

It obviously paid off doing it early, Gordie imagined all the other gyms were probably choosing to wait until a few days before their matches, at a time when they were gonna have excruciating prices _and_ waits.

Amateurs. 

This way, their gym would have plenty of chances to train before the actual matches arrived, without having to worry about last minute admin. 

Even the profiling process itself was surprisingly painless, the trainers catching on to how to perform the tasks to test IVs and EVs quicker than he’d hoped, giving him the chance to get his own team profiled. Learning more about them was always nice, even if he’d already gotten some idea of their strengths and… _vulnerabilities_ from just battling alongside them.

Plus, he’d already roughly known Shuckle’s weight, having put him on a normal scale after the first time he had tried to pick him up after catching him, shocked at the sheer density of such a tiny Pokémon. Of course his shock seemed almost laughably bizarre now, considering he carried Shuckle around enough that he’d stopped noticing the weight.

Something he was certain didn’t hold true for his other Pokémon, with even Barbaracle weighing in at just under 100kg, though even that was nothing compared to Coalossal’s 310kg. Half a kilogram lighter than ‘average’, but looking at him Gordie really didn’t think the difference would be missed.

Great, big mountain of a Pokémon.

Of course, that stuff didn’t really matter, and tended to be dryer than testing their stats, probably why all the little stations for doing that part were full, leaving him stuck waiting. He almost wished he hadn’t bothered yet, feeling his stomach sink at the rush of cold he felt as he reach to recall his team to spare some space in the queue.

Frosty.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known her pokeball was there; keeping her close an entirely deliberate act on his part, uncomfortable with being away from her too long after he’d released his other ice-types.

She just… felt different to the rest of his team, and thinking too hard on those difference made him worry he was leaving her out, making her miserable with all the excitement going on around her she couldn’t be a part of.

Though, it had to be better than being in a PC, right?

He couldn’t bring her out though, for one thing, Kiera would take it as a sign that he was some sort of disloyal Circhestern spy or some stupid shit like that; but even among those in the gym less negative towards him by default, it didn’t exactly inspire the greatest sense of type loyalty, did it?

It wasn’t like he even wanted to fight with her, though.

Mostly, he was just scared that he was making her miserable by holding onto her anyway. 

When he finally got his chance to test the rest, he struggled to muster as much excitement about it as the others. It wasn’t as if he really put that much stock in IVs and EVs anyway, the were trendy for now, but 99% of the time, they weren’t the thing that determined the battle.

Still, it was sweet getting to see trainers understanding their Pokémon’s natures for the first time, and vowing to try out the flavours of food they were meant to prefer… though unfortunately those lines of conversation were coming _instead_ of discussions on how this knowledge should change their battling strategy, rather than _as well_ as.

Which he understood, to be fair, quietly a little pleased (if not at all surprised from the way he acted) that Coalossal was considered ‘timid’, which meant he could definitely try some sweeter dishes with him and they’d both end up happier for it.

Though thinking about that brought him back almost painfully to the first time he’d profiled a team, when Melony had first expected him to compete. Frosty was timid too after all, though she’d never acted it a day in her life. As a child he hadn’t cared about what it meant for her stats, there had been only the simple joy that she’d apparently like it if he split his sweets with her.

When had they stopped enjoying things like that? Was it before or after they’d stopped enjoying being together full stop?

Maybe it was all this déjà vu about doing this, an impossible ‘second first’ profiling (it counted as a first time if it was a new team and a new gym, right?), that was making him feel guilty over Frosty.

He was just scared she was lonely somehow, and figured it might be worth asking Mac if he wanted Gordie to close up the gym today, hopefully give him time to clear his head.

Of course, even daring to think that meant that a bunch of trainers stayed later than usual to sort out their registration paperwork, leaving him feeling so restless that he’d crawl out his own skin if he could.

“You guys done? I was wondering if I could start packing up?” He finally said.

The group looked shocked, as if in his silence they’d managed to forget he was even there.

“We were gonna wait. This stuff is gonna be here until six, and they might need help getting it in.” One of the quieter trainers, (Henry or something?) explained.

Great, they were being _considerate_. Now he felt rude.

“Oh! I can do that, don’t worry. I can check I got all the details correct with my lot on the form in the meantime, I was helping out so they might need a look over.”

Besides, it would give him a chance to let out Frosmoth, to show her she hadn’t missed out.

“You sure? I know you have a nasty commute.”

Arceus, Gordie felt like the biggest. tosser, this guy had remembered his bloody routine, and he couldn’t even be certain of his name.

“It’s fine.” He laughed. “It’ll be nice to have some time with my Pokémon while it’s quiet”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie, he just wasn’t listing exactly which Pokémon he meant. 

“Alright, I’ll let Mac know. See ya Gordie.”

“See you.” He called to the retreating figures, leaving quick enough now that the responsibility had been relinquished from them.

Where was Mac though? He still had the keys, so he had to be close, but Gordie was sure he’d see Mac, a grown man, before he could catch sight of Frosmoth.

Maybe he was just being impatient, but he felt safe to let her out now.

Honestly, he hadn’t planned to take her profile, but from the way she flitted around the equipment, she clearly knew what the others had been up to.

Predictably, she wanted a turn, if only because whenever something was the most inconvenient option for the situation, it was inevitable the one she’d choose.

Actually doing it would be tricky too.

There was… a bit of a knack to weighing Pokémon who could fly, especially the ones who were the size of large human children, and could freeze you solid the second you touched them. Right now that wasn’t the scary part though, because generally, any methods involved weighing yourself holding them, and then yourself alone to get a reading where they’d struggle to.

Gordie tended to avoid scales, for the most part.

But clearly he must have been feeling a little masochistic, wondering if he’d really done this for Frosty’s sake, or if it was just some insane new form of humiliation he was subjecting himself to.

_(Why else would he be doing this?)_

Either way he really wished he hadn’t stepped on the bloody thing, trying to block out the cold, clinical beeping sounds. 

1 4 9 Kg.

Fuck. 

That was higher than it should have been.

He couldn’t even pretend to blame Frosty for that either.

Shit, shit, shit. 

Letting her fly off and seeing what the damage was without her sounded like literally the last thing he wanted to do right now and as if sensing exactly that, she began wriggling to escape.

Little traitor.

“What are you doing?” He heard as he was trying to wrangle her.

The tone wasn’t mad, but it wasn’t much of an exaggeration to say that the sound gave him a bloody heart attack, practically running off of the scale.

At least it answered the question of where Mac and the keys were, even if his timing literally couldn’t have been worse.

So much for spotting him first though.

Gordie span to face him, feeling bizarrely guilty as he watched the leader’s face shift at the sight of Frosmoth.

“Oh… hello there.” He addressed to Frosty directly, crouching slightly once he’d made his way towards them. “Who are you then?”

“This is… er, this is Frosmoth. I was just collating her profile while we still had all this.” He said, gesturing to the setup. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine! That makes way more sense.” Mac laughed. “Thought you were just casually weighing yourself on an industrial scale… and dancing?”

He really hoped his face wasn’t heating up at Mac witnessing his fight with Frosty and the scale, or worse, at the possibility that the man had seen the numbers popping up on the display confirming that Gordie probably couldn’t measure Frosty on a normal bathroom scale without their combined weight busting the damned thing.

Right now he really didn’t think he could say anything to make it less awkward for him.

“They’re a lot bigger than they look on telly, aren’t they? You don’t expect them to be the size of a bloody eight-year-old when you see them flying about.” Mac volunteered, a little stiltedly.

Shit.

He’d made it more awkward, hadn’t he?

Why hadn’t he replied, instead of probably just gorming like an idiot?

“Yeah! I remember being so shocked when she first evolved.” He said, hoping to save face. “I’d seen loads of my mum’s, but I thought they had to grow or something, I couldn’t imagine my tiny Snom becoming one.”

“Well, she became a real stunner, didn’t she? I’ve never seen one this colour. Were you looking to register her? I reckon we still have time if you want to.” Mac offered. 

“No! No, I was just… curious.” Morbidly curious, and to what bloody payoff? “I can’t register her, she’s not exactly a rock type.”

“I mean, the rules say that as long as the majority of your team have rock as their primary or secondary type it’s alright.” Mac answered defensively.

It had probably sounded patronising coming from him hadn’t it? Like he was implying Mac didn’t even know basic rules.

Worse, some deeply ingrained part wanted to tell Mac off for that, the traditional idea that gym leaders were supposed to only use one type to encourage their opponents to create a balanced team to take them all on having been hammered into him very young.

Only, Gordie wasn’t a gym leader was he?

“No! Seriously, it’s fine. She wouldn’t give the right sort of impression anyway.” He said.

“What? What’s the wrong impression?”

“You know… I don’t want everyone to think I’m some… brat looking down on them.”

“Why would a Frosmoth give that impression?” Mac asked, as if Gordie were insane.

Explaining was bound to land him one of those ‘you’re being incredibly niche’ eyerolls, but he didn’t really have much choice, lest he seem like a total nutter.

“Well, she… she was given to me as a gift ages ago. Must have taken years of breeding, I can’t remember the exact probability, but the people who bred her weren’t even doing it for her shiny colour, they were doing it for IVs.”

“They got pretty lucky then, huh?” Mac said, clearly not grasping what Gordie was going for.

He really didn’t want to have to spit it out directly though.

“She’s practically a miracle.” _And he’d shut her away in a pc box for years_. “And when they realised, they saw my mom’s approval as more valuable than a Pokémon as rare as this one. I know that’s not fair… or right.”

“I dunno, her being green doesn’t make her any better at battling, right?”

“No… But it’s like she’s a symbol of all the advantages I was given over other trainers just because of who I was born… I don’t want to go around flaunting that, I don’t want that to be the sort of trainer I am.”

“You think pretending you never had them is the way to fix it?” Mac asked doubtfully.

Well, it sounded scummy when he put it like that.

“No! I, I… I don’t know.”

Mac watched him pityingly, and he averted his eyes, unable to bear the weight of that gaze.

“Gordie, I won’t kid you that you’ve not had chances the rest of us haven’t… But I’ve watched you train, and fight. You work your arse off constantly, that’s the kind of trainer you are.” Mac said. “You shouldn’t be afraid of people seeing the results of that, I don’t know how you plan on getting ahead if you are.” 

He wasn’t sure of the exact path himself, but he just knew that he wanted to do it right this time. He wanted to earn it.

How pathetic did he look right now though? Not even able to answer to someone who was supposedly on his side. Let alone the people he was really supposed to be answering too.

It felt like their was a crushing weight in the silence he’d left.

“I was terrified when I made it into the minors.” Mac said from nowhere.

This felt like a very sudden turn out of the left field.

Seriously, Gordie knew he was a grown man, and he knew shouldn’t exactly need loads of pep talks, but this was probably going to make him feel worse, considering the minors had always felt like a step down for him.

Arceus he was an arse, wasn’t he?

“Yeah?” He prompted, wanting Mac to get whatever he needed to off his chest.

“It felt like I’d been dragged into a world I wasn’t meant to be a part of, and like I said, I’m not stupid, I know there’s tonnes of trainers stronger than me who could take this gym if they thought it was worth it.”

“You know I’ll put up a fight too, I didn’t concede just so someone else could take it.” Gordie reassured him.

“I don’t want you to have to fight my battles for me while I’m leader…” Mac argued. “I don’t want that to be who _I_ am.”

Using Gordie’s own words against him, how bloody tricky.

Apparently he wasn’t done yet though.

“You know, I half thought you may as well have taken it when you threw in the towel. I honestly can’t ever see myself getting further than this.” He laughed wryly.

Hadn’t Wendy said as much about him to Gordie?

Why did it hurt to hear it so much from the man himself?

Gordie barely knew him, but after fighting him and training alongside him, Gordie could tell that such a defeated tone just wasn’t right coming from his mouth.

“But you…” He continued. “You’re more like those other leaders than me, the ones you see on the telly. The gym leaders half my age but already polished trainers with the presence to match.”

What?

How could he even say that with a straight face?

“I’m…I don’t think...” Gordie tried.

“Doesn’t matter if it doesn’t feel that way your end, it’s how we all see you. Maybe the major leaders don’t feel like they are either. But I’ve fought you, I know how it felt.” Mac paused, watching him thoughtfully. “I don’t think you should try and downplay the sort of trainer you really are, it’s not something you should feel bad about.”

While the words left him feeling warm, he couldn’t swallow the feeling that this was at odds with a lot of what Mac had been showing regarding Gordie’s experiences until now.

If something felt too good to be true, it usually was. 

“Okay I’m getting really mixed messages from you. I was pretty sure you thought I was an annoying toff.” He pointed out.

“You’re… a challenge sometimes.” Mac admitted. “But you were the one who said it was good to be challenged, right?”

“What do you mean a challenge?” Gordie asked, hurt in spite of himself.

He shouldn’t be shocked at that answer.

Hadn’t he always been too much? Even if he hadn’t felt like quite enough this last year.

Mac sighed, moving his arm as if making a move for Gordie’s arm, though he pulled away as he watched Gordie shrink back in retreat. Leaving his arms awkwardly at his side instead.

 _What was wrong with him?_ _Clearly_ Mac was just trying to be comforting.

“I don’t mean it like that.” Mac said. “The way you do things is different to everything I’ve ever known… and I know you could make things go your way by force if you wanted to. It’s hard, you know?”

Part of him wanted to defend himself, to say he would never… except he almost had, the only thing holding him back being Mac’s higher approval among his trainers.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to expect him to argue the position, continuing in spite of Gordie’s silence.

“I didn’t want you to take this gym and run it however you wanted, but I don’t want to hold you back either. I know you’re a stronger trainer than me, trust me, you get used to seeing people younger than you rise above you, but I guess… I haven’t given up on getting stronger yet. I just don’t know when to quit.” He said, smiling wryly.

It struck Gordie that despite that, there was an undercurrent of sadness, or maybe resignation, as if he was admitting that somewhere down the line some of his potential had just become regret and lost opportunity, and that it was inevitable that those younger than him were rising above him.

Of course, that was the fate of everyone in the end, though it hadn’t escaped many trainers’ notice that the average age of trainers in the higher ends of the league was getting lower and lower, that window of opportunity ever shrinking.

Obviously he still wanted in on it, but he felt a sudden, desperate urge to show Mac that his window was still open too.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve got more than enough fight left.” Gordie said, unsure he could put what he meant into words.

“And I haven’t given up on getting stronger either.” He continued. “It’s why I can’t register Frosmoth. For me to go forward I have to do it as my own trainer, and if I battled with her… I’d be forever competing under _her_ shadow.”

Mac wouldn’t need him to make exactly whose shadow he meant explicit, the one upside of being known exclusively for his tumultuous relationship with his mother.

“How far you got through her profile?” Mac asked, gesturing to Frosty, apparently perfectly happy to leave all that without further elaboration. 

(For now, Gordie imagined.)

“Um… Not very. She’s 132cm, and combined we’re about the size of half a Coalossal… so I’m guessing one of us needs to go on a diet.” He joked, trying to make light of the number in case Mac had seen it.

Mac just gasped theatrically.

“What’s he saying about you?” He cooed to Frosty. “If I knew where your ears were I’d cover them.”

Gordie found himself laughing at that, reminded that Mac lived with little kids, and probably just had a hard-wired weakness to big eyes or something.

He didn’t look overly impressed at Gordie’s mockery though, and again, it must have been a parent thing, because Gordie could swear he’d seen that exact look on his mother’s face… a lot.

“Well, why don’t you finish that and I’ll get the stuff for checking her IVs and EVs and all that nonsense.” Mac offered.

Conveniently leaving him alone with the scale, Gordie noticed… not that he didn’t appreciate it immensely, considering how flustered he’d been before, when he wasn’t even the only one being weighed.

“I only need the EV stuff, I’ve had the others recorded before and they don’t exactly change.” He pointed out. 

“Oh right… course.”

Bugger.

Mac had forgotten that this wasn’t his first-time profiling, hadn’t he? 

Gordie was fully aware that _he_ was the trainer doing the most to alienate himself here, his own worst enemy, like always.

Half of him wanted to just whack his head off the little platform on the scale, save himself the awkwardness of this whole thing; not to mention getting out of weighing himself. 

Maybe that was why he was a little… on edge.

The last time he’d bothered to check his weight he’d been so… devoid of everything, that he really hadn’t had the energy to care, and now he actually could be bothered to care about stuff like this again he was expected to do it in a public (albeit pretty empty) place? 

Pure idiocy on his part.

Plus, did Frosmoth really _need_ to be watching him?

Maybe it was her revenge for him joking she might need a diet, as if to remind him who out of the pair of them could really do with one.

Still, he wasn’t willing to be afraid of a bloody scale. Tentatively, he stepped onto the plate, forgetting to breathe as it was calculating his weight.

He didn’t realise he’d looked away until he heard the beeping indicating it was done.

Well then.

According to the little red figures on the display, he was a little under 105kg.

Shit.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to step off before he worked himself up over it.

In, and out.

Certainly… a startling number, but a quick conversion to stone on his phone told him it wasn’t actually any higher than he should’ve been expecting. Kilograms were just… an unflattering unit. 

It did mean that Frosty was probably a tiny bit heavier than she should have been, though Gordie wasn’t gonna enter some moral panic over that given the circumstances. He’d just have to make sure she spent more time out of her Pokeball.

Wasn’t a huge deal now was it?

So why should it be any different for him? It wasn’t as if any physical fact had changed just for having a solid number in his head. Even if it was a fairly… well, _solid_ number.

Whatever. For once in his bloody life he was going to let it lie for now. After all, he’d definitely felt more toned, he supposed he could call it, since starting regularly training with Larissa; he didn’t need some bloody callipers or his body fat percentage to make him feel better about three digits.

Maybe he was just collecting his own profile ahead of the matches, he thought dryly, taking a moment to wonder what nature he’d be assigned. 

(Still, he could’ve lived without knowing he weighed more than Barbaracle.)

By the time Mac was back, carrying what looked like an impressively heavy pile of equipment, Gordie had managed to compose himself.

“So what’s the verdict?” Mac asked.

“Why have you got one of those?” He accused, pointing to the profile form tucked under the man’s arm.

“I wanna have one ready just in case you ever change your mind, and we don’t have the equipment.”

Sounded bloody likely.

Unfortunately there was no way he could prove that it wasn’t the truth.

“Fine.” He conceded, knowing it really wasn’t worth the battle. “Frosmoth; 132cm; 44kg; Timid, _ostensibly_.”

“Timid? I can see that.”

“Trust me. She’s… mellowed, for years I was convinced she was gonna straight up kill me.” He joked.

Only, Mac didn’t seem to find it funny.

“Sometimes people lash out when they’re afraid.” He pointed out.

That was… an interesting take on it.

“She’s not exactly gonna respond like humans do though, is she?” He argued. “Plus, what would she be scared of?”

“Well you know what they say, like Pokémon like trainer. Training can be stressful, maybe she was just copying you.”

“Arceus, I hope not. She’s hated me for years.” He laughed. “And are you calling me high strung?”

Mac just shrugged lazily, moving onto the next question; while Gordie tried to avoid the deeper implications of what he’d said about Frosty hatred being a mirror. It wasn’t like that old folk stuff was true anyway.

But the EV testing brought a welcome distraction either way.

If Melony could see Frosmoth’s EVs he’d probably get a telling off, considering they were all over the place. When he’d been younger he’d been more concerned with levelling her up as quickly as possible rather than who’d she’d be defeating to get there. Not helped by the fact he’d never felt comfortable with basically doping a Pokémon up with berries and minerals to ‘fix’ their EVs either.

She was fine the way she was, as far as he was concerned.

Though when Mac asked for any nicknames to finish it off her profile, Gordie briefly considered lying.

Knowing his luck, Mac would call him out on it anyway, his uncanny habit of zeroing in on embarrassing shit of Gordie’s always kicking in at the worst time.

“Okay… bear in mind. I was five when I named her.” He began instead.

“This ought to be interesting.”

“She’s… her name is Frosty.”

Mac was watching him more intently than his answer had warranted, if you asked him.

“If you had her as a Snom not a Frosmoth, why Frosty?” Mac asked.

Bugger.

Mac really did have a superhuman ability to focus in on everything Gordie didn’t want him to.

“Well, I told you… I’d seen my mum’s Frosmoths before. I knew what she’d become.”

“I’m not buying it. You were five, that’s too much thinking ahead.” He said, locking eyes as if they’d tell a truth that his mouth wouldn’t.

This was without a doubt, the most ridiculous battle of wills he’d ever engaged in, and considering some of the stupid arguments he’d had with his mother that was saying something.

Worse, he was losing.

“Fine…. Frosty the Snom-man. You happy now?” He muttered.

Not that it saved him.

“Happier than you could possibly imagine.” Mac replied, outright belly laughing at Gordie’s terrible naming.

“I was five!” He argued.

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, it’s _cute_.”

“Clearly she didn’t agree.” He mumbled, imagining that Frosty _not_ being happy about being named as if she were a boy might go a ways towards explaining her general demeanour.

Not that Pokémon were particularly renowned for caring about gender roles, if they even caught on to them at all.

“I was thinking of getting my girls a Pokémon to look after, something little and gentle so the missus doesn’t mind, what do you reckon they’d come up with?” Mac asked.

“Don’t let them name them.” Gordie warned.

“You think Frosty is that bad?” Mac asked, bursting into a fresh wave of chuckles.

“I let my little siblings name some Pokémon I got them, and I have regretted it ever since. Trust me, they will accept any name you go for, and you will be better off for it.”

Though he thought better of mentioning that you risked having them named after yourself if you didn’t.

“Sounds like hard won wisdom.” Mac said dryly.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Gordie said gravely.

Mac just laughed.

After that they manage to lull into gentler conversation, or at least conversations where Gordie didn’t constantly feel embarrassed at something stupid he’d done or was doing, and as far as he could tell, Mac hadn’t tried to sneak Frosty’s registration through, rendering the whole thing basically an exercise in… fun, he supposed.

Only a type of fun that was actually pretty mundane.

Still, when they’d thanked the guys who’d brought the equipment over, helping them lug it back into their van, he found that he sincerely enjoyed it, beyond it just being a means to be able to push his training sessions through.

Even so, the nostalgia of doing all this couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet.

It didn’t really occur to him until he got home as late as he did, that Mac would’ve ended up late too, just to help him profile a Pokémon he wasn’t even gonna use to compete.

The man was inscrutable sometimes.

But still, he wasn’t all that bad, was he?


	27. Old flames

Gordie struggled to see the point of any of this.

It was late, he’d been coaching all bloody day and he was tired. Springing (alright, not springing, but he’d forgotten, alright?) an impromptu trip to Motostoke of all places onto him was the last thing he needed, especially when it meant even _more_ train travel, neither him nor his mother willing to burden a Corviknight with five travellers.

Apparently, going to Kabu’s for dinner was supposed to be a test for the triplets.

Why did they even need one? His mom had claimed that she didn’t want to put on airs around her parents, but one dinner invitation later and that had gone out the window.

It had to be to do with her sister, the woman apparently finally deigning to meet them. There was something weird going on there, and his mom was being cagey (well, cagier than usual), refusing to let on why she was so scared of what her sister would think. 

What were the chances she would be a tosser about the triplets anyway? They were six! Six-year-olds were always going to be themselves, even in situations where all the adults around them were stewing in awkwardness.

Case in point, they were currently busy playing with the sliding door button on the train toilet, which Gordie supposed was harmless really, if not more than a little odd. Still, the train was nearly empty, and they were within his eyeline, and his mother’s earshot.

They were probably both too tired to try and pull them up on it when it really wasn’t hurting anyone, though what the fascination was with what amounted to little more than an automatic door when half of Galar was whizzing past the window, Gordie couldn’t begin to guess.

At least both dinners would be bearable for them if even a bloody toilet was an adventure.

He almost envied them.

Honestly, an evening in with the grandparents he hadn’t quite made his mind up on yet, and an aunt he’d never even met sounded like his worst nightmare. But he knew that he had to be there for his mother, and Opal, even if they’d still be outnumbered despite him attending too.

How was Kabu’s gonna be anything like that anyway? Kabu was way closer to them than any of his mother’s family, the triplets were gonna be in a completely different mood and it wouldn’t prove anything.

“You decided that Kabu was the closest you could get to your stern, old-school Galarian parents?” Gordie asked, wondering as much.

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair.” His mother replied, missing the point entirely.

He just shot her a flat look, reminding her of the issue at hand.

“Besides, apparently my father has been doing a lot of ‘world cooking’ since he’s reduced his hours at the university, so I’m hoping the little ones will learn not to be rude about unfamiliar food. I don’t want them to say anything unkind.”

“So _that_ ’s why you’re taking them to Kabu’s? Gotta be honest, that sounds a little suspect mom.” Gordie joked. “I definitely don’t think it’s very PC to be like ‘alright Kabu, you’re foreign, you eat weird food right?’”

She looked mortified at the accusation, and he couldn’t help snorting a little in laughter. 

Opal, probably as part of a more… culturally aware generation, couldn’t help but smirk, hiding it behind her book.

“Gordie!” His mother scolded. “It’s not like that at all, we were gonna do something like this anyway, I just asked him if he had any interesting recipes he thought they’d enjoy! You know they’re picky buggers, I’ve been trying to broaden their palates for weeks now.”

“Oh right, have you now?” He challenged.

“Yes! I genuinely can’t believe you haven’t noticed. Do you even remember what you had for tea last night?”

He didn’t, actually.

Bugger.

His face must have said it all, because his mom started laughing instead, with Opal not bothering to be polite in hiding her amusement when he was the target of it.

“I bet you couldn’t name a single meal from the past week.” His mom said, ruffling his hair obnoxiously, ignoring his attempts at escaping. “You’ve been in a world of your own lately.”

“I’ve been busy with work!” He defended.

“Uh huh. From one workaholic to another, you’ve got to switch off at some point.” She chided. “Especially when you’re not getting paid overtime.”

Right, because she was a master of the work life balance.

There was the more… insidious issue there too, not nearly as subtle as she was going for, in that she really wasn’t very good at hiding that she thought Mac was taking him for a mug because Wendy was still his second in command.

Well, and because he was still leader.

Honestly, Gordie didn’t mind, _really_ he didn’t. That wasn’t the sort of pressure he wanted on him for his first fight anyway, not willing to dismiss the other trainers in the minors out of hand. Besides, he had made the active choice not to be the gym leader, he didn’t want to take away all the benefits of the role from Mac, not when at the end of the day he’d be the one fighting the other gym leaders for prominence in the league table.

There was no chance he wanted to do that… it would be selfish of him, considering he’d already scared the life out of Mac and then just given up.

(But when had something being selfish ever stopped him wanting it?)

“It’s not about money, if something is worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” He argued, refusing to think about the rest of it.

“Oh right? You sure your leader feels the same?”

“Well, he’s asked me for help hasn’t he?” Gordie challenged smugly.

“Alright big shot.” His mom said, whacking his shoulder without any real force. “Point made.”

Though, from the silence that followed, he could tell she wasn’t exactly convinced.

“What does ‘world cooking’ even entail?” He asked to break it, remembering what she’d said about her father.

There was a look on her face then he’d almost describe as _fond_ , definitely the closest to it he’d ever seen when it came to her parents.

“Mostly it seems to involve him sending me videos of stocks he’s making, like from bones and aromatics and all that stuff.”

How often exactly was he sending this stuff, for his mom to seem so pleasant about it? Were they talking more now, he wondered.

“Wait, bones?” Opal asked, looking disgusted.

“I think you get the last bits of meat flavour off of them.” Gordie explained. “It’s just like a stock cube… but fresh. I can’t imagine having the time to do all that though.”

“You can’t even find the time to pay attention to eating, let alone cooking.” His mother jibed sarcastically.

“I will have you know that- Platty! Let Mondy out of the toilet!” He suddenly shouted, distracted from the topic at hand before he had to mount a pathetic argument against the truth.

His mother whipped around impressively quick, almost whacking Opal with her hair in the process, though her turning to look as well seemed to have saved her.

She’d probably wish she hadn’t, considering the sight they were met with.

Apparently the toilet door had lost its inherent appeal, meaning that Platty gotten Mondy inside and blocked his exit to spice things up… which was actually kind of impressive considering it locked from the inside.

Not the point, still mean to do, he reminded himself.

Was this just the age where kids started testing how much stupid stuff they could get away with? Or was that terrible twos?

“I’m sure they’re gonna behave great at a dinner party.” He mocked.

“It’s not a dinner party! It’s just dinner.”

“Mum, the toilet.” He reminded her.

She snapped back the present, and got up to free her son from the evil clutches of… her _other_ son, not him for once.

None of the triplets seemed particularly repentant though, giggling madly among themselves, and still young enough that the few glances they were being spared were amused rather than judgemental. Probably didn’t hurt that they were Melony’s kids, he realised, who would want to pick a fight with one of the most beloved figures in Circhester over her kids causing minor mayhem after all? 

By the time they’d calmed down again the train was only minutes away from Motostoke station, bringing on a fresh wave of excitement, and sort of rendering the whole thing useless.

Kabu met them at the station, standing despite the bunch of empty seats around him, which Gordie somehow found incredibly endearing, if only because of how much of a _Kabu_ thing to do it was. The triplets ran straight to him, enveloping him in tiny hugs that were probably overly familiar.

Of course, all it apparently took to become their best friend were the fish fingers and game of football they’d played when he’d looked after them the last time. There were worse way to decide your friends though, Gordie supposed.

They’d definitely be disappointed today though, with the udon stir-fry he apparently had planned.

People were milling about as he, Opal, and his mother went to join them, apparently used enough to Kabu’s presence not to make a huge deal about it. Clearly, they were friendly with him, but they weren’t starstruck necessarily… that was for all the people outside of Motostoke, after all.

Predictably, the reverse was also true regarding his mother; the train station suddenly noticeably quieter the minute she was properly recognised. Everyone pretending they hadn’t noticed, waiting for someone else to acknowledge it.

It didn’t take long for the first person to work up the courage.

Not exactly the entrance they’d been hoping for, especially given how ridiculous the trashier tabloids could be if they caught wind of a male and female gym leader meeting up. Clearly, for a story’s sake, there was only one reason why that was happening, regardless of the fact her entire family was there too.

His mother was being gracious about the attention though, for her anyway, unused to this considering the people in Circhester were mostly accommodating of the fact she wasn’t into publicity stuff, or fan photos. Gordie supposed that here, this close to a gym leader as friendly as Kabu, she felt more guilty about her aversion to that sort of thing.

Was it wrong to revel just a little bit in her frustration? Probably, but he wasn’t forcing her to do anything, he was just the one offering to hold the camera and encouraging them to say cheesy shit like ‘Lapras’ for the photos.

(Alright, maybe he was in the wrong just a little bit.)

Still, his mother was a professional with a façade that could put an Eiscue to shame, looking perfectly professional on all the photos, and they were done quick enough that it only set them back about five minutes, which wasn’t a problem considering they were waiting for a taxi anyway.

Gordie imagined Kabu would get a sky taxi usually, or maybe even just walk knowing him, but with short legs (the triplets and his mother, he thought snarkily) accompanying them, it wouldn’t exactly be fair.

Road taxis were alright too though, they’d booked one of the ones that was practically a minibus, and he’d nabbed a seat near the window, enjoying the view in spite of the tint on the glass.

Kabu’s place was quite far from central Motostoke, the terraced townhouses becoming sparser the further they got from the station, leading into smatterings of estates that looked surprisingly… bucolic, considering how close to an industrial hub they were in the grand scheme of things.

There was plenty of greenery too, the proper sort, not the frozen landscapes that passed for it back home.

Gordie couldn’t imagine it was cheap to buy that illusion of rural living, though he knew that even for the people in a wealthy place like this, the property as far north as Circhester would seem eye-wateringly expensive, or poor value for money at the very least.

A familiar pain, like when he’d made the grievous error of looking at flat prices in Wyndon thinking it might be worth it to cut his commute down.

Literally nothing in the world could be worth the bloody rip-off that was Wyndon real estate.

Rose had made a mistake in making that bloody city, clearly.

This place on the other hand was idyllic, it felt a little bit like a piece of Galar that had been untouched by industrialisation and gentrification alike, although he felt a little pretentious for looking at it that way.

It wasn’t until they pulled into a small road he assumed was Kabu’s that he began to think that there might be more of a wage discrepancy between the fire leader and his mother than he’d assumed.

Because, while he knew that property was probably cheaper here than a comparable house in Circhester, he was also well aware that there was no way any of these houses would be within a… _comfortable_ price range for his family.

Not that it was a surprise, it had always been to their detriment to keep so few trainers at Circhester, massively reducing their income via matches and meaning that whatever they made in the league challenge inevitably had to support keeping the lights on in the stadium for the rest of the year.

Granted, they hadn’t gone the way of Spikemuth, and Melony’s wage certainly wasn’t something most people would scoff at, but it seemed to Gordie that there was a visible difference here between a gym leader whose revenue left them well-off, and one whose left them _wealthy_.

He didn’t think his mother would want to trade places though, if it meant compromising on how Circhester ran.

Even if Kabu’s expensive-looking house was nice.

Which, it was.

 _Really_ nice.

Again, it looked similar to a lot of the houses here, which was to say, a whole lot more southern than most the homes in the midlands, with white rendering crawling with lilac flowers, and large, dark wooden beams, giving it the look of something plucked straight from a history book. There was just… so much space here, for the houses to sprawl outwards instead of upwards like in the inner cities.

It was very… rich suburbanite living, which sort of seemed contradictory to the pace of Kabu’s life, though Gordie supposed coming home might be a well-earned break from the constant hustle and bustle of leading Motostoke gym for him.

There was a surprising amount of greenery around the front of the house too, potted planted and hanging baskets, and plenty of grass on his front garden; definitely not what he’d expect from a fire type leader, even if he had trained grass types too, once upon a time.

Dismounting, the taxi driver had asked for a picture with Kabu and his mother, though he turned down a tip for the ride after they’d taken one, probably deciding that the former had been far more valuable to him today.

Gordie couldn’t imagine his presence being so extraordinary to someone that it disrupted the flow of their day, and that a single meeting would be something they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

He couldn’t help but think it was a frightening amount of responsibility, especially when he knew the secret that Kabu and his mother were both perfectly normal people.

Kabu started fiddling with the keys for the front door, ushering them in once he’d gotten it open. As soon as he was in behind them, he pulled his shoes off and changed into some slippers that had clearly been left by the mat for that exact reason.

Shit. Should they have done that too?

“Do you want our shoes off?” Gordie asked, hoping he wasn’t going to accidentally tread dirt through his house and mortally offend him.

Rock-types weren’t exactly the most tidy to train with, and they’d been doing so outside on a grassy pitch all day. 

Besides, he didn’t go to others’ homes all that often, except the few times he’d been staying as a lodger… but that was different to being a guest! The rules for guests were always more unspoken, always easier to unwittingly break.

“It’s fine! Don’t worry, it’s just habit on my part.” Kabu reassured. “You can hang your coats up though if you want.”

Right. This was still Kabu, an unfamiliar environment didn’t exactly mean he was going to start acting completely different, did it?

Gordie started peeking at the plethora of photos framed around the hall as he hung his coat up, recognising some of the faces as retired gym leaders from Opal’s gym cards, or retired champions. Some of them were people he didn’t recognise, but a few had a strong resemblance that made him think they were related to Kabu.

All of the photos were wearing smiles alongside Kabu’s own.

Bloody Mr Popular over here, clearly.

There were no photos of podiums, or awards hung up alongside it though, and Gordie didn’t get the impression that the photos were for bragging purposes. It reminded him of Opal’s office actually, a celebration of all the people who’d meant something to them, and he wondered if that was where Kabu had picked up the idea… it did sort of feel like an old lady thing.

He was getting strong impressions that Kabu had guests often, and that had Melony not had so many children she’d need to get down here too, he’d probably host their dinners instead of visiting.

A lot of the stuff in his house just didn’t seem to be for one guy, a large dining room and table set, multiple chairs in his breakfast bar in the kitchen and stuff like that. Kabu was definitely more on the health nut side, and always on the go, so it just wouldn’t make sense to have all this stuff for slow deliberate meal times unless he was sharing them with others.

Not to mention he was a good host; Gordie could tell why the triplets had taken to him so strongly after he’d looked after them a grand total of once.

Though Gordie was struggling to keep up with a, for all intents and purposes, interesting story about Kabu’s day at work that he was telling them while finishing the cooking, immediately taking a tangent in his head once he brought up taking his team to a max raid den to train them in case of any of the portable power spots cropping up near the gym again.

Of course, he hadn’t mentioned the portable power spot part, and Gordie was a little surprised that neither Opal nor his mother had filled him in.

He also couldn’t help but think that the training was a very sensible idea though, even it was more practical for Kabu’s team than basically anyone else, as close to a good part of the wild area as they were. Still, it was something worth thinking about for his mother, or even something for him to mention to Mac.

“Gord, you’re doing it again.”

Shit, what was he doing?

“What?” He asked.

His mother didn’t answer though, just levelling him with a disapproving look.

“Sorry, Kabu. He’s not being rude on purpose. He’s been so out of it these last few weeks I’m surprised he hasn’t bumped into Deoxys.”

“What did I do!” He argued.

“Look down.” She replied flatly.

So he did.

Oh.

The food was plated up. He should probably help move it into the dining room, shouldn’t he? Would be the decent thing to do.

Honestly, at this rate he was more worried about himself going to dinner with her parents than the triplets.

Between them they got the table ready quickly though, and Kabu managed to get the triplets to try their first bite with finesse that could honestly teach the rest of them a thing or two, convincing them that the stir-fry wasn’t weird, it was just halfway between a spaghetti bolognaise and a curry.

There really was an art in telling white lies to children.

It was good food too, which was a pleasant surprise. Maybe it was rude on his part, but something about ‘not trusting skinny cooks’ had been playing in his mind… especially not ones who looked like they survived on protein bars. He was just being a jerk again though, wasn’t he? 

“So, Gordie. Your mother tells me you’ve been doing a lot at your new gym?” Kabu asked, smiling.

It was polite enough, but Gordie could tell there was an edge of amusement to his words, no doubt because he’d just completely zoned out of a conversation because of his constant focus on working.

“Yeah. It’s really refreshing, the trainers aren’t league broken yet, so they’ve always got so many questions… and they’re open to trying so much new stuff.” He explained. “I’m really enjoying it.”

“When are your first round of matches?”

“A fortnight away. It’s a grass gym, and they’re really high up the table from last season.”

“Off to a good start then.” Kabu said, commiserating Gordie’s rotten luck.

“I just feel sorry for them that we’re gonna have to nip the chances of them facing the Turffield leader in the bud.” He said cockily.

What? No harm in practicing the sort of smack talk he could use in the match.

Kabu clearly appreciated it, letting out a chuckle in contrast to his mother’s groan.

“I’ll have to make sure to pass that ‘nip in the bud’ pun to Milo.” He said. “I’m sure he’ll find some use for it.”

“Don’t get overconfident before your fight has even happened Gord.” His mother cautioned. “It’s setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

Ah, there was that patented motherly support. He hadn’t had all that much of her relentless positivity regarding his battles since he’d come home.

It wasn’t her gym though, unfortunately for her, and he had nothing to prove to her.

“I know, I know. I can’t presume I’m gonna cut my way through to top of the table in my first season. Don’t worry! I’ve got it pencilled in for my second one.” He laughed.

“I suppose we should sleep with one eye open then Melony?” Kabu joked in response. 

“What?”

“I mean… for promotion season.” He elaborated awkwardly.

Ah.

Kabu didn’t make all that many jokes, Gordie noticed, and considering how that one had landed, he could see why.

He supposed he hadn’t really thought about it… hadn’t let himself think about it rather, because he’d always known it was inevitable in the back of his head. This wasn’t like before; if his team succeeded, if they seized that miniscule chance for promotion this season, it would come at the cost of one of the majors being relegated.

If they ended up top and were given their choice of opponent, the only logical choice would be Kabu or his mother.

No, the only logical choice would be Kabu; taking the third gym made far more sense than the sixth after all. But that seemed almost too cruel to imagine, considering how few years had passed since his last relegation.

But what did that mean? Was he just fine taking Circhester from his mother, as an enemy rather than a successor?

Not that he should even get ahead of himself, this wouldn’t even be a worry unless they got top of the minors this season which was… well, the punters thought it was impossible, while he was more inclined to say it was just _improbable_.

That didn’t matter though, Kabu had planted the seed now, and from the look on his mother’s face, it seemed unlikely either of them were going to manage to just forget about it from here on in.

Unfortunately, Kabu seemed to realise as much too, not that it was hard to with the way all life had been sucked from the room.

“No need to worry too much about that yet guys.” Gordie said, trying for levity. “I’ll have to sort out all the infighting first.”

“Infighting?” Kabu asked.

“He’s being dramatic.” His mother interrupted. “There’s a few people jealous that he’s risen in favour so quickly.”

“Think they’re more annoyed that I nearly stole their gym and now practically run it, to be honest.” He corrected. “And there’s this one girl whose sister trains at Circhester… makes things a little awkward.”

Kabu gave him a look that was a little too knowing at that, and he realised that his mother must have filled him in on _all_ the details after that night he’d seen him argue with Oliver.

Great.

Tell him about that, sure, but they couldn’t possibly tell them about their visit to Magnolia.

“Have you tried talking it out with her?”

“Yes! Her friend seems to be fine with me now, she just doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Maybe that’s not what’s bothering her.” Kabu suggested.

That was… an interesting theory.

But what else could he have possibly done to her?

Sure, she’d never been quite as open with him as Oliver was, but he was pretty sure that he’d been equally cordial to the pair of them, and there wasn’t anything he’d done while leading Circhester that he could picture Liana complaining about to her that would have soured Kiera’s view of him, they’d gotten along really well!

Did she just wish he wasn’t there? That he would give up on rock type training so she wouldn’t have to bump into him again? Because, sorry, but that wasn’t happening.

“I have no idea what could be.” Gordie admitted, sounding more defeated than he’d expected.

No one had any suggestions.

He’d managed to bring the mood down even more, hadn’t he?

The rest of the meal definitely felt more solemn, among the adults (and Opal) at least, the little ones seeming largely unperturbed by the heavy atmosphere. Once they’d finished though, having left some veggies but eaten most of their meal, they were desperate to go outside, hoping to play some footie against Kabu from the sounds of it.

“You three can show me if you’ve practiced since last time.” He challenged them.

Normally, Gordie might join in with this sort of thing, if only to keep Platty happy, but he felt… tired, he supposed. More fatigued than the day warranted; in line with the onslaught he knew was coming ahead.

He’d just watch for now.

Kabu’s garden was… peaceful for that sort of thing. Big enough that it felt private, but as devoid of grass as his front garden had been full of it. Gordie really hoped none of the triplets ended up scraping their knees on the slabs, before realising he was probably just worrying to much; when had little things like that ever really harmed anyone? Let them have fun for a bit, be kids like they were supposed to.

Speaking of which… Kabu had let his team out to roam, and clearly his mother had brought Vulpix along for the journey, playing with Ninetales like she always tended too. Once again, he’d forgotten that forsaken ice stone! Why bother nabbing it if he was always going to forget to bring it up when it would feel natural to do so?

Nevermind, both their Pokémon looked as though they were enjoying themselves right now anyway.

Maybe he should let Frosty out too. The rest of his team had been thoroughly tired out earlier, but she wasn’t exactly a part of his team in that sense was she? There was a familiar guilt gnawing at him at that thought.

Though as he released her, he found he was immediately regretting it, watching as she flew off down the garden, past a bunch of potted plants, arches and what looked like a greenhouse.

Seriously, was Kabu a _greenhouse_ person?

Gordie followed, really wanting to avoid her damaging any of Kabu’s stuff, or getting into general trouble while she was here. It wasn’t exactly her fault that she was bored, but she should have more respect for other people’s property… not that she really had much of a concept for it in the first place.

He found her as he passed through a sort of square arch thing of those same purple flowers that were on the front of his house, apparently separating his garden into sections. Gordie was surprised that Kabu didn’t rent this place out for weddings.

Something that became even more fitting, watching Frosty sprinkle snow over the little ornaments in the large, neatly kept gravel patch. No, not patch, garden.

This was one of those zen garden things wasn’t it?

He motioned for Frosty to follow as he headed back into the main part of the garden, somehow even more confused about what sort of person Kabu was in his spare time.

“You know, I honestly did not peg you as the zen garden type.” Gordie called out to him across onto the slabs.

Even with the dinner stuff, he just couldn’t imagine Kabu spending hours doing something so slowly and deliberately, at odds with the ever-moving image he presented at the gym… especially given just how intricate the patterns were.

Maybe he just hired a gardener or something?

His shouting gathered the attention of his family too though, suddenly making their way over to be nosy. 

“Ah, it wasn’t exactly my idea.” Kabu. admitted, poorly hiding a smile. “I used to have a lawn, but my team… didn’t exactly get along with it.”

Gordie could see that. In fact, it was quite surprising that he had as many plants as he did in light of it. His Pokémon must have known that the pots and greenhouse were off limits, apparently more inclined to listen to him than Frosty was Gordie.

“I can imagine.” His mother laughed.

Not really so much of a problem for her Pokémon back home he knew, considering the natural weather patterns in Circhester were no more forgiving than ice Pokémon anyway. Probably because they were created by ice-types in the first place.

“I can’t take the credit for this though.” Kabu explained “I just put down a bunch of gravel, it’s actually Centiskorch leaving the designs.”

“They’re Pokémon tracks?”

“Mhm. He gets quite defensive if any of the others tread over them too.” He said fondly.

“Really? That’s actually pretty sweet.” Gordie said.

Part of him couldn’t help but be envious.

It was obvious that Kabu’s Pokémon were part of the centre of his life, rather than afterthoughts in his home, or his daily routine. Gordie would love to do that, a place with ceilings high enough for Coalossal to move around comfortably, and a garden they could feel as free in as the wild. Maybe with a pond or something for Barbaracle.

To be fair, he could probably convince his mom on the pond thing, considering Lapras would love one that was big enough for her too.

Kabu definitely had the right idea about how to look after his team.

Gordie did hope Centiskorch didn’t take issue with the triplets running all over his hard work however, trying to hop from spiral to spiral, playing some game that seemed to consist of only the idea that landing in the space between meant they’d lost.

Maybe his mother had a point about making sure they were ready to visit her parent’s place after all. Not that Kabu seemed to mind, seeming almost wistful of just how energetic they were.

It wasn’t any of Gordie’s business, he knew, but he wondered if Kabu wished he had kids of his own, after leaving the rest of his family behind to pursue training in Galar.

Maybe he was just being presumptuous though, the guy clearly had no shortage of friends, if the photos all over the house and all the smiles he’d gotten through town were anything to go off.

That was bizarre to Gordie, the idea of being able to establish yourself in an entirely new place, of being able to form life-long bonds as an adult surrounded by a culture completely different to everything you’d ever known.

Sure, he’d enjoyed travelling, and felt incredibly lucky that he’d met the people he had, but it had always felt… temporary somehow, like he was always going to move onto somewhere else, even before he’d found out about his stepfather; he couldn’t even make close friends when there _wasn’t_ a giant cultural chasm between them. 

Somehow, he didn’t think that was the sort of thing you could ask for pointers on.

Maybe it was worth taking his advice on Kiera though, the guy had to be better with people than Gordie, not that it was all that difficult an achievement anyway. 

Tomorrow, he’d try. No more excuses or hiding.

How easy it was to say shit like that.

Doing it, now that was much harder.

Inevitably, it backfired when he finally went for it.

It was, in fact, a giant bloody mistake.

Worse, it was a _public_ mistake, only working up the nerve to ask her if he’d done something to bother her after a morning session. Which meant literally everyone from their gym was here, which wouldn’t have been a problem if the volume between them hadn’t immediately starting rising, until they were basically yelling in each other’s faces.

She seemed to think it was fairly obvious what he’d done to bother her.

While he was more inclined to argue that he really hadn’t done anything all that vicious like she seemed to think.

“I wasn’t being malicious! It wasn’t like I was planning to lie, or leave Circhester. It just wasn’t something I could carry on with any longer!” He argued.

That place had crushed him with it’s expectation, the weight of his legacy, since he’d been old enough to walk.

“I know. You didn’t plan any of this.” She simply said.

Wasn’t that the whole point? What was _her_ problem?

“Then why do you _still_ hate me over it?”

Not that he especially expected to get a clear answer, Kiera seemed incapable of it.

He just… couldn’t let it go without trying.

“Because you don’t have a plan at all! You’re just doing whatever you want, whenever you want and hoping for the best!”

That was hardly fair, was it? He’d spent years torturing himself, doing what everyone else wanted instead. It didn’t make people any happier like they seemed to think it would.

Besides, she wasn’t doing any different, was she?

“At least I’m doing something! How long would you have spent training with friends and being too afraid to join a league team if we’d never met?”

Shit.

Why was he antagonising her even more?

Some of the trainers watching them seemed to be thinking the same thing, and he heard a couple of sharp breaths, from people embarrassed on his behalf or something.

“Oh, come off it! You can’t take the credit for that. Besides, even if I hadn’t joined here, at least I wasn’t actively going around hurting other trainers!” Kiera said.

“How am I hurting anyone?” He asked.

At that she looked almost murderous, venom clear in her stare.

“Has it ever entered your _thick head_ that whenever you uphaul a gym based on whatever whim is driving you that week, that you’re sweeping everyone else along for the ride too?” She challenged.

As if. Gym leaders were at the mercy of their trainers, they’d have to be blind not to see it.

“I’ve switched gyms _once_ , I’m not exactly as fickle as you’re making out, am I?” He pointed out. “And I’ve only tried to help other trainers, I’ve never once forced them to doing anything, especially not for me.” 

“If you believe that, you’re deluded. You spent months manipulating Oliver and Liana to get what you wanted!”

“What are you bloody on about?” He asked, confused about the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

“Stop it! Stop acting ignorant to this whole thing! You _knew_ how they felt about you, and you used it to lead them on with all that fake ‘opening up’ shit while lying to their faces!” 

He did _what_ now?

This was the dumbest thing he’d heard in years.

“How they _felt_ about me?” He choked out amid laughter, unable to stop himself in spite of how bad he knew it must look.

Because seriously, he was familiar with this joke. It was almost a cliché, and he was sure he could vaguely remember the most popular kids at his secondary school trying to convince the weird ones that someone liked them.

Of course, the point there was always just to annoy the supposed ‘admirer’, who was always quick to deny it, horrified. The actual target of it wasn’t meant to be the victim.

They were nothing but the punchline.

So why was Kiera pulling it on him here without either of them to witness it?

“Stop laughing!” She yelled. “What is wrong with you!” 

“Sorry, but aren’t we a little old for ‘my mate has a crush on you’ jokes?” He asked.

She was watching him incredulously, in silence.

Why was it so quiet everywhere all of a sudden?

For Arceus’ sake, she wasn’t trying to be serious was she? Apparently, Wendy hadn’t gotten Kiera’s story quite as mixed up as Gordie had assumed.

“No. No fucking way, I’m not playing this game.” He started, before she could convince any of the other of something so bloody ridiculous. 

“Is this all just a _game_ to you then? Kiera asked viciously.

“Don’t try that! They didn’t like me like that. Why are you trying to convince everyone they did?”

The others were getting way too invested in this, he could tell, whispering to each other.

“I really don’t get you Gordie.” Kiera said, so quietly he had to strain to hear. “Are you world’s best liar, or just a _complete_ narcissist?”

It felt like a punch. She may as well have hit him, probably would have hurt less.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He challenged.

“Yeah? Well clearly you don’t know anything that’s going on around you! Two people I love wasted months of their lives for you, and for what? For some tosser who barely knows they exist? Who doesn’t care about anyone else around him?”

He could have screamed at that. He wanted to, but no air seemed capable of leaving his throat. How dare she act like he hadn’t cared about Oliver and Liana?

For months Liana had been the one thing that made going to Circhester worth it, the one person who supported him for him, who believed in him. He’d tried his hardest to be a gym leader who would deserve it, a gym leader who recognised her talent and helped her be acknowledged for her efforts.

For fuck’s sake, surely Kiera remembered that he helped her and Oliver set up an entire bloody gym!

And what? All of that meant nothing because he didn’t agree with her delusions over Oliver and Liana liking him?

Even if she was right about it, what did that change?

They’d never told him anything! Never in a million years was he just gonna… assume that people liked him like that, not when he’d been the butt of one joke or another about his appearance his entire life. Besides, as Kiera was pointing out, he didn’t have the sort of dazzling personality that would make up for it either.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t right anyway.

“You’re insane.” He said.

“ _Me?_ You’re the one who’s completely out of touch with real life! How can you think you know my own sister and best friend better than me?”

“I dunno. Maybe the same way you’ve decided to blame me for stuff that isn’t even remotely my fault! Even if they had liked me, what could I have done? I never led anybody on, and they never _said_ anything! Why would you be upset about all that _now_?” 

“What are you two _doing_?” Mac interrupted, louder and sterner than their argument had been at any point.

Shit.

This was the other natural consequence of arguing during gym hours. 

Being caught.

“Fighting because everyone Kiera knows is in love with Gordie.” Wendy explained dryly.

Gordie turned to look at her, lounging around like she was watching the best feature movie she’d ever seen.

Fantastic, they’d definitely made a scene then. (Not that there was any chance they _wouldn’t_ have.)

“They’re not in love with me!” He argued, really hoping Mac wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Mac ignored them both, turning to Kiera.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” He asked, far more softly.

Gordie didn’t think the discrepancy in tone was necessarily fair, until she answered. 

“I just… I can’t do this anymore.” Kiera said, and his stomach churned as he saw the wetness of her eyes.

She stormed off before any tears could actually break out, but Gordie didn’t really believe anyone in the gym was fooled. 

Part of him wanted to shrivel away into nothingness, and blow away in the breeze before Mac could blame him for it. Somehow he felt responsible, even if he’d honestly not done anything to try and hurt her. He couldn’t help wincing a little as Mac turned to face the rest of them, feeling an oncoming bollocking.

But Mac didn’t shout, he didn’t even look angry.

“Alright then. I’m… going to go find Kiera before the afternoon session breaks out.” Mac announced. “Wendy, you look after things here while I’m gone. Gordie… don’t make anyone cry.”

Great.

Bloody brilliant.

Was he now the guy who made people in his class cry? Without even needing to beat them in a battle too, which boded well for their upcoming matches. Maybe he’d manage to make _both_ teams cry, wouldn’t that be something?

Complete fucking idiot. 

“Everyone piss off. Gordie stay.” Wendy instructed, clearly using her new power over them for evil the second Mac was gone.

They listened, if not a bit reluctantly, which had to be a sign that they were all a little scared of her.

Smart on their parts, really.

“You alright?” She asked, though she didn’t sound all that concerned. 

“I’m fine! Might just get a train home and lie face down in the hero’s bath until I stop breathing.” He answered tersely.

Right now he couldn’t bother pretending to be well-adjusted, let him deal with everyone thinking he was weird another day. 

“At least you’re not melodramatic though, right?” She said flatly. “That would make this a lot harder.”

“Har-har. Does it hurt being that witty?”

“Ouch Gord. Claws away please, I’m on your side in this.”

“You are?” He asked dryly, not quite willing to take her for her word.

She seemed to mostly be on the side of entertainment, as far as he could tell. 

“Yeah actually, I am. It’s totally not your fault that they had a crush on you. You didn’t owe them working at their gyms or anything, you didn’t owe them shit!”

Surely he owed them decency at the very least, even if they hadn’t been his friends at the time. He hated even the possibility that Kiera was right, that they’d wasted months having… _feelings_ for him, when they both could do so much better.

“Well thanks.” He tried, sounding pathetically miserable, even to himself. “Let’s hope Mac sees it that way.”

“He’s good with conflicts, you and Kiera will be best friends by the end of today. In the meantime though, I have the perfect idea to cheer you up!”

“Is a room full of pitfalls that can swallow me hole?” He asked, not willing to address the absurdity of the first part of what she’d said.

Seriously, if it didn’t mean actually bumping into Liana after all… _that_ , he might have made his way to Circhester and jumped straight into one of the pits.

Forever.

“Um, no. But that’s a solid plan B.” Wendy replied, blasély.

He actually appreciated that right now, smiling a little in spite of himself.

“You have a much better sense of humour when you’re grumpy by the way.” She added.

Right, _humour_. Sure.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He said petulantly. “Anyway, what was your idea?”

She just smiled sharply.

He should have known that meant trouble.

Except, he reckoned even _Wendy’s_ solution to a problem wasn’t to create an entirely different, much worse problem.

That was a uniquely him talent. 

Maybe knowing that he should have seen what would happen because of it coming, should have avoided it. Of course he bloody didn't though. 

He was always getting burned by shit he should have been wise enough to evade. 


	28. Burn Away

“Admit it.” Wendy goaded. “I was right.”

“Never gonna happen.”

Giving in now felt like he would be signing away his soul, Wendy as ever a malevolent force. But, to be fair, she was right; there was nothing like some truly satisfying fights to take his mind off of… _other things._

That last guy’s Obstagoon had been no joke, Gordie wouldn’t have been able to win if he’d been distracted by all that. He hadn’t been able to resist turning down the victory money for a chance of a rematch down the line, hopefully before the next time he felt like running away from his problems.

Because seriously, how many trainers could there be in Wyndon willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice to fight a complete stranger? He’d have to be running out soon… and then, well, back to reality he supposed.

To Wendy’s credit, she was _exceptionally_ good at finding the trainers who fit the bill, though what she was doing to convince them, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. They’d even managed to set up a couple of impromptu doubles matches.

No doubt she’d spent years chafing in division three, getting to know all the unregistered and lower league trainers, none of them able to get their feet through the door of any official channels. Invisible even as they were challenging each other to new heights.

He appreciated that she was sharing her contacts here with him, instead of dismissing him solely on the principle that he was a league brat and leaving him to fend for himself. 

Something he didn’t appreciate however, was her mockingly asking him after every fight if he reckoned that last trainer had been in love with him too. Was sort of making the whole ‘forgetting about this morning’ thing all the more difficult.

“Are _you_ in love with me?” He jibed after one too many teasing comments about the older man they’d just faced. “Because you seem pretty fixated on this.”

He wouldn’t go as far as to say she looked _disgusted_ at the accusation, but she was putting on a dramatic show of offense.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself Casanova, you’re not exactly my type.”

“So, is that your way of saying you like girls, or just that you think I’m ugly and want to spare my feelings?” He joked.

“You’re fishing.” She simply replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not! You literally had to smuggle me away earlier because I couldn’t deal with… all that.”

“Then why do you even want an answer either way? I’m not responsible if I make you cry.” 

He just barked out a laugh.

“As important as your opinion is to me, I think I’ll live.” He said dryly.

He’d only been joking anyway, he could tell that Wendy didn’t have feelings for him, and he reckoned he’d be alright with her thinking he was unattractive too. After all, wasn’t the whole point of all this self-love he’d been practicing that sometimes you had to be positive about yourself even when you knew others wouldn’t agree? Especially so, even.

He was just… interested in how others saw him, and Wendy was someone who he truly believed to be blunt enough to tell him whatever she really thought. This morning had given him a lot to consider in that regard. 

“You’ve got issues pal.” She said instead.

Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Sorry, I know that I’m weird about this… Kiera just threw me for a loop earlier, and apparently I have no fucking idea how people see me. I guess I just get paranoid easy.”

Saying something like that felt like an invitation for someone to make fun of him, to get under his skin and make a home there. Except, Wendy wasn’t the sort of person who needed to be _invited_ to make fun of anyone, so it really didn’t make a difference, did it?

“ _No_.” She replied sarcastically. “Would have _never_ pegged _you_ as being sheltered and paranoid.”

He supposed it made sense that she saw him that way.

But it wasn’t true.

“Honesty, the problem is I was never sheltered.” He defended, caught off guard by how _resentful_ he sounded. “I grew up in the public eye and I’ve had half of Circhester’s unwarranted opinions in my ear my entire life.”

“Like, about how you looked and stuff… as a kid?” 

“About literally anything you can imagine. I promise you I’ve heard everything in the book.”

“Why the fuck would you make fun of a kid? Circhester not have reality TV or something?”

“They weren’t making fun of me.” He said plainly. 

That had always been the worst part, how matter of fact it had been for so many people, which Wendy didn’t seem to get.

The prospect of having to explain was beyond humiliating, but he desperately wanted her to understand, to agree that he wasn’t paranoid because of some inherent defect… that he had reason to be.

“Loads of people felt kind of… _parental_ over me when I was a kid, watching my mum basically raise me on the pitch. The Circhester trainers were always giving me pointers, and the public too at matches. Everyone would always go on about how I was a mini Melony.” He explained.

_Were these fond memories? Or just fonder than what followed?_

“I mean… to be fair.” Wendy interjected jokingly.

“I know, I know. I even liked it at the time, all that attention. All I ever wanted when I was little was to be just like mum.”

“Then you hit that rebellious period?”

“No.” He admitted. “Maybe that would have made it easier.”

Could anything have really?

“What do you mean?” Wendy asked. 

“That attention sort of… _changed_ , way before I did anything that could have explained it, made sense of it for me at the time. I just… wasn’t so small, so _manageable_ anymore, and people still wanted to pile on points of improvement for Melony’s kid, even when I was already battling far beyond their own level.”

Not to mention his mother’s own biting criticisms, but they didn’t need to get into that right now.

Or ever, come to think of it. 

“No one likes an armchair champion, right?”

He chuckled in agreement, trying to lighten the mood.

“Puberty was brutal, beyond the obvious.” He laughed. “Loads of people being all fucking fond about whatever awkward phase I was in at any given time, joking to my mum how I’d grow out of it and how embarrassing it all must be for me. Kids my own age were finally catching on to just how different our lives were too, I didn’t do full school weeks because of my gym duties, so I never made any close friends.”

He could have groaned in realisation then.

“It’s almost funny. Li- er, Kiera’s sister… the one she mentioned this morning, she was in my year at school. Back at Circhester she told me that most the kids had been intimidated by me, because of the gym. She said _that_ was why some of them were always trying to knock me down a peg.”

“Well they sound like little scrotes.”

“You’re not wrong.” He laughed. “But… that was my only reference for socialising with people my own age for a long time. Either being ignored, or outright made fun of, and it was always in line with what the adults were saying. So I guess it just… stuck with me, shaped how I saw myself, and it-”

His breath caught, and he forced himself to push through. He knew he shouldn’t be telling Wendy this, but hey, what were secrets between two people who’d basically attempted a coup together?

Besides, there was something so incredibly _cathartic_ about baring all to someone he knew wouldn’t tiptoe around his feelings, but also wouldn’t use it against him.

(He hoped.)

“When I was about fifteen it got worse. A lot worse… That’s when I was left in charge of Circhester gym for the first time.”

“Wait, I think I know this one… you fought your mum in front of the whole town?”

Ah, so that must have been in Kiera’s little story time too.

Of course.

“That was a few years later.” He explained. “She was super ill when I took over, and pregnant with triplets, so fighting her then would have made me even less popular than our actual fight did.”

“Funny that.” Wendy laughed. “I’ll have to remember not to fight expectant mothers.” 

He smirked in spite of himself, not certain that Wendy would actually follow through on that; she seemed incapable of turning down a battle.

“It was bad enough anyway. None of her trainers were happy that she’d left a teenager in charge, even if officially I was only supporting her second in command. Everyone knew what it really meant. The vibe at the gym was utter crap; they all thought I was slack, and none of them seemed to care that I was just a kid scared that my mum might fucking die.”

That he’d have been left completely alone in the world, Opal and his stepfather not feeling like any true family back then. Had he ever told his mom how he’d slept every night with a packed bag by his door, just in case she left him with them? How much he’d resented her? Hated her teammates? 

It seemed silly in hindsight.

Though what was worse out of the realisations that he’d left anyway, or that she’d lost his stepfather instead, he couldn’t say. 

Even just talking about this with Wendy was somehow better _and_ worse than he’d imagined, like cauterising a wound; hot, painful but somehow healing too.

Thankfully, she was choosing to ignore that his eyes were wet, even though there was no way she’d fucking missed it.

Arceus, he must seem pathetic.

How did they get here? He was certain she would wish they hadn’t.

But apparently, he’d piqued some natural nosiness in her, because instead of being relieved he’d shut up before he could spill anything more, she pressed him further.

“And what? People made fun of you for struggling with leading?”

“It… wasn’t _quite_ like that. Circhester ran like clockwork, there was no way I wouldn’t make it when it was the one thing my mom had asked of me. I was the one who was struggling… I was practically drowning and it felt like no one cared. I was at school even less too, which meant I was struggling to keep up when I was meant to be sitting my GCSEs the year after.”

“Sounds like an all-around great time.” She said, tone dripping with sarcasm

“Yeah.” He agreed. “I was sort of keeping above water, but I er, well let’s just say I wasn’t doing fantastically in looking after myself and it was showing. People were clinging to it like Joltiks, adults acting like they were all concerned that I couldn’t take the responsibility without actually trying to help, and people at school just having a field day ripping the piss out of me.” 

Again, it was beyond humiliating, even if he wasn’t going into specifics. It should be pretty obvious from the time she’d known him alone anyway, all of his deficiencies.

He didn’t think she’d laugh at him for this though, not right now.

He really hoped she didn’t, even though he had no intention of telling her she was the only person he’d ever actually… explained this to.

_Why?_

Was he so desperate for reassurance over his failures?

“So what, responsibilities and bullying just starting piling on, and no adults cared that you were cracking?” She asked.

He wanted her to condemn them, but he also knew he couldn’t let her.

“It wasn’t their fault. I was never at school, and, er, I was keeping on top of tasks so no one would notice without like… an extended conversation, which I tended to avoid anyway.” He explained. “I quit the gym not too long after anyway, when my mother was well again, so she never really saw me struggle either.”

He’d left after yet another refusal at the league challenge, another realisation that she was intent to never allow him to make his own path as a trainer; blind to how the one she had made for him was cutting at him, bleeding him dry.

“Bet those wankers at school loved that, didn’t they?”

“It didn’t really change anything there.” Gordie admitted. “I guess the damage was done.”

“Teenagers are bloody sociopaths. You know, I was always more interested in pursuing training than school stuff too. Didn’t exactly endear me to anyone there.” Wendy admitted. “They found it hilarious, some tiny bint acting like a hard man, training with really the roughest Pokémon she could find… I guess they thought I was compensating.”

He honestly hadn’t expected Wendy would open up too.

Maybe she felt sorry for him, or perhaps she just felt more comfortable doing so in light of his vulnerability.

Something about her demeanour suggested that she found it even worse than he did to be open. 

“You _are_ a hard man.” Gordie joked, aiming for anything above abject sorrow. “Don’t worry about that, I’m well convinced of your toughness.”

“Yeah? Well they weren’t. Was constantly patronised about it back then. You just gotta… let it go, not let your self-image be decided by a bunch of teenagers forever, especially when it’s completely unfounded.”

Emotional junk clearly wasn’t her forte; she seemed so stiff trying to deal with all this.

But she’d brought him out here anyway, she was sincerely _trying_ instead of shutting him down, and he appreciated that beyond words.

He didn’t want to keep dragging her down with depressing stuff.

“Unfounded? Thought I wasn’t your type?” He asked instead, putting on a show of smugness. 

“I admit, I personally like more, er, rugged guys, but come on, you’re fairly… like, _pretty_? I don’t believe that no one has ever told you that before.”

This was hilarious, the words actually seemed painful for her to spit out; she definitely struck Gordie as the sort of woman who had no time for ‘pretty’ things, that checked out. It was just funny to think she counted him as another pretty thing she had no patience for.

“Who goes up to random guys and calls them pretty?” He laughed.

They were heading onto more familiar ground though, he could feel it. 

“Oh sod off! You were a gym leader, it had to have happened. People practically _worship_ the majors ones.”

“Lots of girls did join the gym when I took over.” He admitted. “But that’s just them being attracted to the position, they didn’t really care about me… I could have been anyone. Plus, I remember some trainers laughing at a meme about how I look while they were literally in the bloody stadium, so there were, hmm, _mixed messages_.”

“Wait… There are _memes_ of you?” Wendy asked, seemingly overjoyed at the prospect.

“Not the point.”

She better not go looking for them.

(Of course she fucking would though.)

“Right. Course… Look, I’m gonna be frank with you. There’s no winning here, I get that it must have been horrible growing up exposed to all that negative stuff, and I don’t have the answers for that. But today you freaked out at people being _into_ you, and it’s like… you must just flat out ignore when it happens to end up in situations like these, because, and please don’t have a breakdown at this, while I wouldn’t use the word _crush_ , there are definitely trainers who really look up to you at our gym too.”

Well great, that boded well for him feeling brave enough to go back this afternoon.

“You one of them?” He mocked.

“You bloody wish!” She rebutted. “I’m just your babysitter.”

“That sounds about right.” He agreed. “I guess I just have to… deal with all the rest of it. Believe me, I know that I’m insane.”

Arceus did he know. It was the doing something about it that seemed to be tricky. Every time he thought he was going forwards something inevitably proved that he hadn’t gotten any better.

“To be honest I think it’s a pretty easy fix." Wendy said.

“A lobotomy?” He suggested, met with something halfway between a snort and a scoff for his efforts.

“Nah, you just gotta make a point of being like… aggressively self-confident and friendly whenever you think someone doesn’t like you.

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

It certainly sounded like a more… novel approach than the conventional platitude’s about accepting yourself, but he wasn’t sure it was even a remotely good idea in practice.

“Well, you’re seeing it everywhere anyway right? If you’re wrong people will just find you outgoing. But if you’re right and someone doesn’t like you…being super happy and confident is literally the worst thing you could do to them.”

How could someone make friendliness feel so combative? It was completely bizarre, and he was laughing in spite of himself.

He’d never heard someone manage to make ‘kill them with kindness’ sound so… actually fatal, though it was perfectly in line with what he could actually ascertain about Wendy’s philosophies towards life. 

“So basically I should exist in a permanent state of passive aggression?” He asked.

“Well, think of it as an interim measure until you can actually be confident for yourself.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m not- nevermind.” He stopped himself, knowing that trying to adequately explain his paranoia could take more time than either of them actually had in this life. “Am I being given some patented Wendy secret here?”

She looked offended at the mere suggestion.

“Do I strike you as friendly?”

“Maybe secretly… I know you didn’t sign up for any of this, I just have this awful habit of… bottling things up for years until I inevitably explode and overshare a bunch. I appreciate you listening, even if I’m sorry you had to.” He admitted. “You’re definitely tougher than me too, for what it’s worth.”

“Well, _obviously_.” She answered casually. “As far as all this though… What are friends for?”

He smiled, even if she was forcing herself not to return one.

There was no bloody way she was a hugger though, so he refrained, knowing he was more touched than was probably necessary at her words. It was just… really nice to know he had at least one person at the gym who considered him a friend, and hopefully not just a neurotic freak.

(Though there was no doubt she thought he was one of those too.) 

“If Mac wouldn’t kill us for it, I’d say sod off the afternoon sessions and just get shitfaced instead.”

“I don’t actually tend to drink that much.” He admitted, watching as she rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t mind a couple more fights if you feel up to it though?”

“Arceus yes. I have a threshold for how much touchy feely I can handle in a day. I’m ready to move back to punchy hurty instead.”

“Oh right, sounds great then.”

Gordie felt sorry for whoever they found next.

(Rightly so too, it was absolutely brutal. Though he chose to blame their opponent, considering his entire team was comprised solely of Lotads for some truly indiscernible reason.) 

Maybe Gordie was just being cocky, or restless, or maybe he just didn’t want to finish on the one lacklustre fight they’d had today after unloading all of… _that_.

There were worse things, he realised, too little too late. 

Because, as it turned out, their final fight managed to find them instead.

Unjustly smug wankers who’d couldn’t lose with grace, but wanted to somehow act like he was doing them a favour by suggesting a rematch, were definitely worse things. 

Had ‘Silver’ managed to get over the loss after mulling it over a bit?

_How had he even known they were here?_

“I didn’t even know you were awake this early in the day.” Wendy said. “Didn’t take you for the walks in the park sort of bloke either.”

“Yeah, well I heard from some of the guys that you’d been running around like a maniac challenging people to fights with some silly haired wanker from your gym.”

Ah.

He’d taken the defeat _very_ well then.

Clearly.

Not that Gordie couldn’t relate, but even he wouldn’t bring a man’s _hair_ into this; he wasn’t a monster. Not to mention, insulting someone’s hairstyle was just sort of… ineffective. They were presumably making the conscious decision to go with it every day, so they weren’t gonna give a toss what you thought.

Still, it was a sign that Silver probably didn’t like him very much.

Hadn’t Wendy given him, a very useful trick to deal with this exact situation? If nothing else, he knew it would be bloody hilarious for her if he started doing it out of nowhere.

He smiled at the thought alone, which was probably useful for getting into character actually.

“It’s true. We’ve definitely been busy.” Gordie said, beaming. “We’ve probably got time for one more though. You one of Wendy’s trainer friends here to fight?”

Arceus, the look on his face alone made it worth it, though Wendy was giving away the game with how she wasn’t bothering to hide her amusement even a little bit.

“Hilarious.” Silver replied, though from the sneer Gordie might go as far as to say he _hadn’t_ found it funny. “Heard you’ve been fighting too Wendy? Thought your new dad put you on a leash?”

What?

How had they gotten into talk about _leashes_?

“He means Mac.” Wendy explained, lowly. “That passes as humour where he’s from.”

“His parents’ basement?” Gordie muttered back.

She snorted. 

“You know, grumpy Gordie really is a lot more fun.” She replied, smirking.

She probably meant it as well.

He really shouldn’t accept encouragement towards outright boorish behaviour; he definitely hadn’t been raised to be snide to near strangers, but really, could it be happening to a nicer guy? For once Gordie felt fairly certain it was deserved; he hadn’t forgotten that little crack at him when he’d lost last time after all.

“Look. I just heard you were around, and I thought we could have a rematch... somewhere more private. _Properly_ this time, you know, match your… usual standards.” Silver said, and Gordie didn’t miss the almost dangerous edge to his words.

Seriously, who took losing in Pokémon battles this hard?

“What? Which part last time wasn’t proper?” He asked, keeping up his friendly façade, partly for the game, but mostly because he didn’t want the guy to see how this was bothering him.

“Well, if you’re really from the majors like Wendy is saying, then I can only guess how… boring all this must seem to you.”

There was… a lot to unpack there, but he couldn’t help but zero in on one little detail.

“You _told_ people that?” Gordie practically hissed at her.

“Why else would they have dropped everything for a fight! I did skip the leadership stints though… and the mummy issues.” She defended.

Oh great, fantastic timing on _not_ skipping it though. 

He just gestured angrily to Silver, who looked suddenly a lot less smug and mostly just confused at the turn of events. 

Right, not a scary guy, just an edgy one.

“Let me guess, by ‘private’ you want to take us to an abandoned warehouse in a creepy back alley, completely on trust?” Wendy asked.

“Sounds like a great way to get your organs stolen.” Gordie added.

“It’s not actually a warehouse, that would be a little cliché, don’t you think? Besides, I hardly need the money, do I?” He answered smarmily. “No, I’d quite like to sort this as a matter of pride to be honest.”

“You know, you never _had_ to tell people that you lost.” Wendy pointed out.

He didn’t dispute it, but Gordie felt he could almost _hear_ the guy’s teeth grinding.

They were being cocky weren’t they? Again, it was hard not to when he was feeling so shitty otherwise today.

But, Pokémon battling… that was a constant, it had always been the _sole_ constant for him.

He knew exactly who he was on the pitch.

(Even if that was a bit of a smug bastard.)

He wasn’t about to let himself be intimidated by some weirdo.

“I’m up for a rematch.” He agreed, not letting his smile drop, appearing casual about the whole thing.

“Fine, we can do this. But I draw the line at blindfolds to get there, or stupid shit like that.” Wendy jibed.

“Whatever, it’s not exactly a secret clubhouse.”

Right, it was presumably just a creepy building where they were probably going to be ambushed.

Except, the guy seemed genuinely obsessed with battling, it checked out that he wanted a rematch.

Plus, even if Gordie went back to the gym now, he’d definitely just be ambushed in a different sense. He’d take losing a kidney over _that_ conversation any day. 

He really shouldn’t have headed off with them he knew.

But he did, against all part of him that was screaming just how dumb and idea it was.

Really, how often did he listen to that part anyway?

“Do you reckon this one is in love with you too?” Wendy muttered into his ear, once she was satisfied Silver was far enough in front not to hear. 

Gordie couldn’t stop himself bursting into laughter at the sudden call back, actually raising the mood this time. But really, they couldn’t have made it more obvious to Silver that they’d been taking the piss out of him.

He looked just about as pleased as expected about that, though Gordie thought he and Wendy were pulling off pretty good impressions that butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.

Still, maybe they shouldn’t antagonise the guy leading them to a completely unknown destination, even if a dickhead was still a few steps below a serial killer.

Hopefully.

The thing was, even though he’d claimed it wasn’t a spooky abandoned warehouse, all derelict buildings sort of looked the same, so the distinction of whatever it had once been was lost on Gordie.

That they weren’t alone, wasn’t lost on him however.

“You know those guys?” He asked Wendy.

There were only two guys already here, which while it had them outnumbered wasn’t particularly worrying, but if more were to turn up…

“Yep, more of his colourful little gang.” She explained. “Don’t worry, they act like they’re roadmans, but they’re all like, middle-class, office day job types.” 

_So like Chazza then_ , he though sarcastically, feeling a little mean about mocking the guy when he wasn’t even there to defend himself. 

“Don’t worry, they’re just here to watch.” Silver reassured, in a tone that was obviously meant to be off-putting. 

Gordie wasn’t really buying into his big man image though, even without Wendy’s input, Silver had already lost once, and he hadn’t done anything tough then. It would take more than two of his friends to change that.

Of course, that was before Gordie even considered his Pokémon team were here alongside him.

Wasn’t that the entire point? That his team were stronger?

“Well, I’d let you wait around for more people to turn up; but we’re already late so I have to end this quickly.” Gordie goaded.

He reached for Shuckle, figuring it would be good to switch it up, keep Silver on his toes.

Silver sent out Arcanine, obviously keeping to whatever playbook he’d gone against last time.

But as fight started, and Gordie immediately felt… wrong, somehow.

To be honest, he’d always thought that he’d honed a fairly good… battle sense over the years; on how confident his opponent was, how much that was warranted, and of course, how fairly they intended to fight.

So why the fuck could he not read this guy right now?

He was way too confident.

Today he only had one extra Pokeball at his side, and his current Pokémon didn’t seem any stronger than they had last time.

You had to be able to imagine victory as you went into a fight, Gordie knew, or else you’d already lost… but this guy seemed utterly convinced of it, way more than he had before.

Some part of him felt outnumbered, a pit of dread at the thought that his mates were gonna join in when Gordie’s Pokémon were already tired, but their posture wasn’t really giving the impression that they were ready to interrupt, even if they seemed to be… anticipating something.

They didn’t tag in, even as Silver was falling behind.

Stoutland didn’t do much better either after Arcanine was finished, though Shuckle hadn’t been able to withstand them both. Barbaracle was able to pick up where he’d left off easily enough though.

Yet somehow guy’s confidence remained unshaken… he actually looked more excited the further in they got.

Even his extra Pokémon hadn’t really done anything to turn the tide of the battle, a Tauros, which was entirely predictable, and used in an utterly unimaginative way.

Which meant only Gyarados remained if he hadn’t switched his team, while Gordie had Coalossal and Pupitar, which wasn’t… _fantastic_ considering this guy definitely had something up his sleeve.

Gordie technically had a hidden ace too with Frosty, but he wasn’t sure she counted, even with the ever-growing temptation just pick her to avoid putting his other two at a disadvantage.

On pride alone he bought out Coalossal though, to prove that no matter how unsettling Silver was acting, he wasn’t afraid.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Once Gyarados was out, Gordie finally got it.

Well, less so Gyarados, more so what they brought out alongside him.

Things made entirely too much sense then, a bombardment of all the stupid signs he should have seen. He hadn’t just missed the red flags, he’d practically bloody slalom skied through them, leading him to something he definitely could have avoided.

The smugness, the little jibes about the majors, and the need for total privacy… in a pre-prepared spot.

He whipped his head to Wendy, to check if she’d known, if she’d led him into this too, but she didn’t seem to recognise what his friends had dragged along.

Gordie desperately wished he didn’t either.

But it was unmistakable.

The portable power spots had caused him nothing but grief until now, so it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that they were still blighting his life.

(Just another disastrous remnant from his time leading Circhester.)

Why the _fuck_ did these wankers have one though?

There was no way a bunch of losers who named themselves after colours to gamble on their unofficial Pokémon matches were responsible for what had been going on.

So what? They’d stolen them from whoever was?

Bought them, more like.

Maybe that had been the entire point. Using strange, dynamaxed Pokémon in all the cities with gyms had felt like a protest, but what if it had been just been a way to grab attention?

Advertisement in the modern age, Gordie thought dryly.

Top-end unregistered trainer could make a fair bit from matches, and they knew how to be discrete, definitely something you’d want in a target audience for your dodgy stolen technology. 

It didn’t sound impossible, money was as obvious a motivation as any after all.

Unfortunately, Coalossal could only sense the device, not its purpose here; some deeply instinctual part of him responding to it, just like when they’d found the one Sinistea had been subjected to.

Except that one had been empty, and he’d been terrified.

This one was clearly _anything_ but empty. 

And Coalossal was terrifying.

It happened before Gordie could even move, could even think.

The sound alone shook the room, a bassy cry like a war horn, that he could feel reverberating in his chest cavity.

Then Coalossal was running.

Gordie didn’t even have time to grab his Pokeball, instead just reaching forward to try and catch Coalossal’s charging figure before he could escape.

Bad idea. _Obviously_.

Mac was a fucking liar, clearly, because wrestling rock types felt pretty masochistic right now. Nothing Gordie could remember quite matched the sudden searing pain lancing through his arm at Coalossal’s impact, sending the limb reeling straight back.

Which meant he’d basically achieved nothing but punching himself in the face, and thoroughly embarrassing himself of course, though with how his arm was throbbing he couldn’t focus on any other parts of his body to know if they hurt.

The big guy might have genuinely broken the bone there.

Fucking fantastic.

It didn’t matter, neither did the sudden rush of copper he could taste; he could fix all that later, in this moment he needed to get Coalossal away from here, needed to make sure he was safe.

He’d gone deadly still, apparently realising there were walls around him on all sides.

How the fuck had Gordie dragged the poor little guy into something that was distressing him so much? He was hardly gunning for trainer of the year right now, was he? 

The others were talking, shouting he thought, but he couldn’t make out the words over the sound of his blood rushing between his ears. The noise must have drawn Coalossal’s attention though, staring back towards them.

Towards the power spot, bathing Gyarados in glowing energy. 

This time Coalossal didn’t run.

He just fired.

The stink of molten tar filled the air, and for a second Gordie was scared Coalossal had done something unthinkable.

He’d definitely gotten the device, which seemed to be rendered unusable, and maybe caught the people a little bit on the rebound? They were alright though, if being broken enough to do this in the first place didn’t disqualify them from the label.

Part of him wished they weren’t alright, even though he knew he was probably wretched for it.

Gyarados was alright too… and dynamaxed, the power spot apparently pulling through before Coalossal had wrecked it. 

Couldn’t have gone much worse really.

Nevermind.

Gordie grasped with useless, shaking fingers until he reached the trigger to recall Coalossal as he prepared to fire again, and on some deep muscle memory, steadied his hand.

He was releasing Frosty before he even had the time to check that they were still fighting.

Something told him that after breaking their little toy, they were gonna carry on, were gonna try and do… something.

Not that it mattered, Gordie wouldn’t let them take whatever revenge they were hoping for. Though Silver’s friends making sudden movements to their bags, no doubt to bring out their own teams, might complicate that a little.

Thank fuck for Wendy though, because he could see Sudowoodo from the corner of his eye. She must have brought him out before Gordie had been able to release Frosty.

His blood felt like it was humming, the sound of it filling his skull. Something between anticipation and dread filling the air.

Though he wasn’t entirely certain that it counted as a _match_ necessarily, when it was mostly five people yelling at each other, with their poor Pokémon stuck in the middle left trying to figure out what they were meant to be doing.

That’s when experience would always win out though, and there was no chance any of their team’s had been together as long as he and Frosty had.

If he knew himself best of all on the pitch, he’d also say that was when they understood each other best too.

Even summoning hail onto the battlefield felt strangely soothing right now, despite his… _reluctance_ to rely on ice types.

Frosty was furious, he could tell, but there was no way she’d been able to pick up what had happened to Coalossal while she was in her Pokeball, right?

If that were the case though, why was she fighting as if she truly intended to kill these trainers?

Mac’s words from the other week were playing in his mind, but he doubted that was it, he didn’t want these guys dead.

Maimed; maybe.

Rotting in prison with their stolen equipment; almost definitely.

But alive to regret it would be preferable.

Gordie supposed the benefit of all their fake name bullshit was that they’d never be able to report their true identities to the police, not that he was all that keen to involve them anyway… they’d just hand it over to Macro Cosmos, and Gordie didn’t want to incriminate himself considering he wasn’t supposed to know about the power spots in the first place. 

But he didn’t want them to get away with terrorising Coalossal, probably terrorising their own teams too.

A sudden jet of water hitting Frosty and splashing into his face reminded him that he could focus on all the rest once the threat of Gyarados and his allies was gone. One step at a time.

Frosty was strong enough to withstand, he just had to be too.

Even if he’d never admit it aloud, it was nice to not have to be wary of tough water types for a change, though he was certain that under normal circumstances Gyarados’ dynamax should have worn off by now.

He supposed the wild ones they’d found had always behaved more like den Pokémon, why would that suddenly change now? (Granted, Sudowoodo hadn’t suddenly been revived like tended to happen in raids.)

Gyarados didn’t look like he had all that much steam left in him either, and Gordie was hopeful he’d be able to finish this before he found out how long it would take to wear off without intervention.

In fact, why not finish it right now?

Frosty was watching him so expectantly after all.

“Blizzard.” He instructed, so quietly he doubted the others would hear him over the pitter-patter of the hail.

They wouldn’t be able to miss the piercing screams of the icy winds however, just a tiny by-product of an attack he usually felt too nice to use. (Granted the whole ‘being stuck in a blizzard’ aspect of it was always a bit off-putting too.)

Today must have shaken him senseless though, because he was actually enjoying it. The blizzard itself even, not the battle. The cold felt less biting, and more like a _balm_ , which probably would have tipped him off had he been less distracted.

Right now the chill felt welcome.

Familiar even.

A safety and surety that he’d win. 

Gyarados was the most obvious when he fell, an explosion of energy visible even through seemingly endless snow. Thank Arceus.

Though Gordie couldn’t even feel pleased as their other opponents fell, as if crumpling into those cold, cold winds; he was just desperately relieved.

For about a second.

When Silver’s companions brought out another pair he could have wept, or screamed, or anything, if the air itself hadn’t been too bitterly brisk to even open his mouth. 

How many did they have?

What _even_ were they? The thickness of the snow was leaving his vision speckled and dark, only vague shapes discernible beyond a few feet. 

His team had been fighting on and off for hours, they couldn’t do this.

 _He_ couldn’t do this.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one though, the pair of Pokémon that had just been called out appearing to get closer to their trainers, rather than attacking.

What were they thinking?

It was hard to anticipate moves when he felt he could barely stand.

Before he could even react, they charged through the hail, swerving around Frosty and himself, leaving him whipping around to try and catch them in their wake. 

_The door._

They were bloody running.

Had they lost faith once Gyarados had fallen?

Were they worried that making too much of a fuss would draw other people here? They wouldn’t want to be caught with the power spot after all.

Frosty didn’t seem to care either way, sending a gust of practically glacial chill towards them.

But they were too well protected, their Pokémon (A Perrserker and a Theivul, he could make out now) taking the brunt of it for them.

Then they were gone, leaving him and Wendy with the damned box.

He honestly couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or defeated.

Not sure how long his legs could continue to hold him otherwise, Gordie sat down in the snow that had been left by the blizzard, sifting it through his fingers, before just giving up and flopping onto his back.

Sure they hadn’t _won_ , he supposed, but that could’ve gone much worse.

(Or much better if he just hadn’t gone. Though would they have just that box in a battle where it wouldn’t have been destroyed? Give them the chance to use it again?) 

Frosty settled on his chest as he was ruminating on the possibilities, leaning over his shoulder and arm, landing so gently that he barely felt her presence. Though she refused to shift as he nudged her.

He just laughed, not sure what was actually humorous here.

Maybe he was just relieved? Or scared, or sad?

It was funny, but he honestly couldn’t tell.

“So…How long have you just been carrying an insanely strong Frosmoth around with you?” Wendy asked, making her way over to join him, though as far as he could glance up with Frosty there, it seemed as though she was fine just sitting. 

_That_ was her takeaway from all this?

“Since I was five… with some breaks, admittedly.” Gordie tried. “Do you wanna… talk about… any of _that_ instead?”

Her face wasn’t really… responding, and something was obviously wrong.

Maybe she was in shock?

He knew he bloody was, feeling as though he’d been stuffed with cotton wool and injected with radio static.

“No.” She answered flatly. “I have no fucking clue what just happened, and I’m not sure I want to know. Weird shit just seems to happen around you.”

“Around _me_? You’re the one who knows those guys!” He pointed out shrilly, sitting up.

Frosmoth still wouldn’t shift, practically clinging to his shirt, he wrapped his arm to support her, stroking her head softly with the other hand. She’d earned the right to be a little fussy right now, that fight had been just… vile.

“I don’t know them, I more know _of_ them. But they’ve _never_ done weird shit like that until now! So yes, around _you_.” Wendy argued.

“Why don’t we just blame them instead?” He suggested. “Let’s revive Sudowoodo though.”

His entire body seemed to shake as he reached for a revive, like all the nervous signals had been rewired. But he held it out as a peace offering. 

She didn’t say thank you.

She didn’t say anything in fact. 

She was just… staring.

“What?” He joked. “You’re making me self-conscious.”

“Gordie, your… your _arm._ ” She said, pointing as if to confirm to him where it was, drawing his attention down.

Oh.

Or maybe she was pointing out the raw patch across it, which he couldn’t tear his eyes away from now that she’d mentioned it. 

When did that get there?

 _Was_ it blood?

It felt… well, he couldn’t tell, it felt _numb_. 

A blizzard and a Frosmoth latching on would do that, he reckoned.

Part of him knew he was supposed to know what this was, would know it, if only his brain would start working properly, scrambled by everything that had happened this morning. 

(Hadn’t he been worried about what Kiera had said earlier? That already felt like years ago.)

But now he was just stuck, sitting in snow in the middle of what probably counted as a crime scene, staring at a nasty scrape.

_No._

_A burn._

Coalossal had… _burned_ him?

It must have been when he tried to catch him, that was the arm he’d used right? 

Went a ways to explaining why the bloody snow had felt like a spiritual experience in that last fight.

It was probably why Frosty was vehemently refusing to move too.

“Gordie, what happened?” Wendy asked, loudly. Too loudly.

“Coalossal… must have accidentally burned it when they scared him.” He said, surprised at how flat it sounded; how calm.

Was he calm?

“Arceus’ fucking sake, Gord, we have to get you to a walk-in centre.” She insisted, sounding more like herself.

“I don’t need a hospital! I’ll just run it under cold water.”

“ _Where_? You gonna go find a bloody drinking fountain in a park?” She challenged. “And you didn’t exactly touch an oven Gordie! Your whole forearm looks like you tried to brush a Charizard’s teeth.”

“I-I-”

“You have to get it checked out!”

“It’s really not a big deal.” He tried.

Granted, it looked vicious, mottling of bruising already showing around the borders of the parts that had been seared off. It was only the pinky sort of burns though, the blistery ones. Those weren’t as bad as the black ones right? He remembered someone telling him the dry, dark ones you couldn’t even feel were the worst, and this clearly wasn’t one of those, because it stung like a bitch whenever he thought too long about it. 

He’d be fine.

“Clearly we’re not looking at the same thing! I’m not letting you go back to the gym like that.”

Seriously, this was the last thing he needed right now. He had to make sure Coalossal was alright, and he was couldn’t make his family worry with hospital trips. Plus wasn’t he supposed to let Mac try and sort things between him and Kiera?

He wouldn’t go.

It wasn’t happening.

“Well, you can’t make me go anywhere!” He said, cringing at how petulant it sounded even to him.

Besides, it proved blatantly false in practice. 

Apparently this was the first battle of the day he was set to outright lose; Wendy practically dragging him, while he was too busy wincing each time he brushed his arm, which was often considering he really didn’t want to attract too much attention by having it on show.

Of course, the Frosmoth that wouldn’t get out of her impromptu papoose (previously Wendy’s jacket, kindly donated) was doing a pretty good job of attracting attention anyway, an ice Pokémon this far from Circhester, a shiny one no less, drawing eyes on the busy streets leading to what Wendy swore was the nearest hospital.

At least she was carrying his bag for him though; he appreciated the gesture given that he was… well, preoccupied.

His head felt clearer the further from the power spot they got, even though they knew they would have to do something about it eventually.

Once they actually got to the walk-in centre, he was thankful it didn’t look too busy. The receding shock from before was bringing on a visceral pain, a less than subtle hint that he really ought to get it looked at.

Filling in the form was a bit embarrassing though, the receptionist didn’t expect him to write when he realised it was his dominant arm he’d screwed up, but the man definitely did a little bit of a double-take once he’d been given Gordie’s home address and next of kin, clearly making the connection that yes, Melony was _that_ Melony. 

Today really wanted to hurt him in every way possible didn’t it?

Speaking of which…

“Does it hurt?” Wendy asked, looking as if she wanted to poke it and see for herself.

He really hoped she could keep that curiosity at bay, not sure that he could stop himself tearing up a little if she touched the unholy marriage between bruise and burn that was his arm right now.

There was no point worrying her though.

“Not as much as I expected.” He lied. “Frosmoth is probably to thank for that though.”

“Then why are you so bloody stroppy?”

_Stroppy?_

He was in an A&E waiting room! How was he supposed to feel? 

“I just… feel like an idiot.” He admitted.

“ _Why_?”

“Because I’m sat in here, cradling a Frosmoth like a baby in a papoose with a giant burned arm.” He whispered harshly.

“Don’t know why you’re saying that like it’s a secret mate, I’m pretty sure everyone can tell. But why would you feel stupid for that?”

“It just… feels like everyone keeps staring at me.”

“They are.” Wendy replied flatly, and he couldn’t stop a wince at how matter of fact she was about it.

She began shaking her head, objecting to literally herself a few seconds ago.

“How can I put this nicely…” She began. “You’re a guy… with multi-coloured hair; wearing a gym uniform… and clutching a shiny Pokémon in a hospital waiting room. You’re not exactly keeping a low profile, they probably think you’re an influencer or something.”

“You’ve made me sound like without a doubt, the worst influencer ever.” He pointed out.

“Maybe, but you kind of brought this on yourself.”

Battling had been her bloody plan in the first place! She’d been the one who’d gotten word to the specific tossers who’d had the power spot too.

“Oh, did I? See if I ever go along with any your ideas ever again.” He threatened.

“Oi! I’m not the one using a Pokémon who’s scared shitless of dynamaxed opponents to the point of bodily harm, in a league where he’s inevitably gonna face them.”

“He’s not afraid of them!” Gordie whispered harshly. “We’ve face plenty of dynamaxes, it’s those damned boxes. I don’t know what-”

Except, he did know, didn’t he?

His stomach fell, and it must have shown.

“What?” Wendy asked.

“He’s scared they’re gonna be used on him.” Gordie said.

They’d fought plenty of dynamaxes after all, but those were all away from any power spots. There had been no risk that Coalossal would be affected.

Not again, anyway.

_Shit._

What would have happened if he’d dynamaxed him at Circhester that night they’d all visited? Would he have accidentally hurt the triplets, or Opal, or his mother? The thought alone was making him nauseous, the realisation of just how easily it could have happened.

Maybe he was just afraid of the portable power spots though, Gordie tried to reassure himself, maybe he’d be fine with a real one.

It sounded like a lie even just thinking it. 

“So he’s afraid of _being_ dynamaxed? That’s… a new one.”

“It’s happened to him before, with one of those boxes.” Gordie said darkly. “Not a happy memory obviously.”

“You’ve used one before?” Wendy asked, with an odd expression he couldn’t quite parse. 

“No. It’s how I met him in the first place.” He explained. “He was one of the wild Pokémon who it happened to early on.”

_Or was he?_

Gordie had considered it just short of a stroke of destiny that had brought them together. But it wasn’t, was it? Someone had done this to Coalossal.

Worse, what were the chances they’d just taken a wild one by force and brought it all the way to Circhester? They’d have needed loads of people for that, moving 310kg of rock was no joke, even when it couldn’t burn you to a crisp. (He appreciated just how easy would be, now.)

Coalossal couldn’t have been wild. Why bother when you could just use an express trip in a Pokeball? 

But why would someone go through the trouble of finding a Pokémon with Gigantamax Factor just to give them up? Maybe his last trainer had just doped him up to make him able to gigantamax, it didn’t seem beyond whatever bastard could just abandon him.

_(Hadn’t Gordie done the same with his ice team though?)_

No, this wasn’t abandonment.

Gordie doubted they’d ever had the intention to keep him. It was deliberate, so Coalossal couldn’t be traced back to the trainer later. If these guys were just making a sales pitch, then they’d wanted to start with a bang. So naturally they dropped the biggest, scariest ones they could find in a place where most the trainers would be at a disadvantage.

He could practically see them coming up with it.

‘Look, with our magic arsehole box, you can even be a match for gym leaders!’ 

Coalossal had just been a tool for them.

Gordie felt sick at the prospect, Coalossal had trusted him so quickly, even after all of this. _(Would he still trust Gordie after today?)_

How devoted would he have been to his first trainer?

Hopefully they hadn’t been together too long. Gordie didn’t like the idea that Coalossal would remember them. That he’d miss them.

Arceus, he hoped Coalossal didn’t miss the wanker that did this to him. 

“How do you know it was those thing causing all the wild ones to go nuts?” Wendy asked wryly. “Have the police just been withholding from all us plebs?”

“No! No… It’s a really long story.” He said. “I’ll tell you when we’re somewhere less busy, I promise.”

He’d definitely said too much here anyway. 

They’d been quiet, and he doubted they’d been eavesdropped on, but the occasional stares seemed more sinister now. Of course they probably weren’t, and as wrapped up in Coalossal as he was, he honestly couldn’t give a shit what people were looking at, so, keeping Wendy’s method in mind, he just tried a polite smile every time someone’s eyes met his for a little too long, feeling rushes of relief each time they averted their gaze first.

His relief was short lived, however, as Wendy’s pocket started buzzing.

She grabbed the phone as if it was burning her hands.

(Poor turn of phrase, he realised.)

“It’s Mac.” Wendy said.

Shit.

Gordie was suddenly tempted to just take the phone and lob it across the room, if it would prevent them having to explain this. Of course, this was a bloody hospital so that was definitely a no-go. Besides, when his mother had tried that, he’d ended up with a phone to the eye, so Arceus knew what would happen this time when he was already injured. 

“Hey!” Wendy answered cheerfully, before he could do anything too rash. “Everything alright your end?”

Honestly, Gordie was impressed by how shameless she was about it.

How was she keeping a calm façade right now? If he didn’t know the situation he’d probably just think she’d just run late from lunch.

Mac must have asked though.

“Funny story there actually… We’ve taken a short detour to accident and emergency.” She said, as nonchalantly as probably possible given the subject matter.

Though Gordie was fairly certain he could hear the ‘You’re fucking kidding.’ from down the other end of the phone.

“Tell him it’s not actually my fault!” He interrupted, really hoping Mac wouldn’t think he’d done something stupid after this morning.

Which… he sort of had done. But not at all intentionally.

Besides, he’d argue that if something relied on the malice of someone else, then it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, it’s Gordie. No, he didn’t throw himself into _any_ bodies of water.” Wendy said.

He hadn’t _what?_

“No, it genuinely wasn’t his fault, I promise. There was this other trainer… and well, we probably shouldn’t talk about it here.”

Right, they really shouldn’t.

“He’s not being _bullied_!” She said exasperatedly. “There was an accident mid-fight.”

_Bullied?_

For Arceus’ sake, was that what Mac thought of him?

Obviously, bullying him was Wendy’s job, and he doubted she’d land him in the hospital.

Current circumstances notwithstanding, of course.

Besides, it was sort of an accident, she hadn’t be wholly lying there.

“I know what you said about them, but I thought it would perk him up!” She argued.

“Don’t cancel the afternoon classes.” Gordie called out, leaning into the handset. “I’m fine, I’ll be back before the end.” 

Wendy just rolled her eyes, handing the phone over so he could argue it out.

Joke was on her though, because there was no fucking way he was doing that right now.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Mac asked cautiously.

“It’s fine I swear. Bye!”

He hung up before Wendy could stop him. She was just watching him agape, and he reckoned they probably made a funny sight for the others in the room, even if he’d been careful not to be too disruptive.

Definitely left a bit of an awkward vibe though.

When he was eventually called him, Wendy had to physically pry Frosty from his grip, to the point where Gordie gave her his glove for her other hand; already being in A&E was no excuse to give her frostbite after all, one injured idiot was more than enough.

(He was relieved to see the fabric had done a good job of protecting his hand from Coalossal though.)

There was a mirror over the sink in the corner of the doctor’s office, his own reflection giving him a shock as he realised that, yes, he had tasted blood earlier after all; a cut in his lip the likely culprit. He’d completely forgotten about it in light of everything, but now he couldn’t stop absentmindedly biting that bit of lip, and testing the feel of it with his tongue.

He looked a bloody mess, literally.

Plus, he really didn’t think the doctor was convinced that it had been a jet of scalding water that had missed his Frosmoth and hit him, even if she didn’t feel obliged to get the truth out of him.

Thankfully she spared him a second wait for an X-ray, declaring his arm unbroken after tapping it enough times that she was satisfied. Apparently he’d gotten off very lightly, if you could call second degree burns and some very nasty bruising ‘light’.

Still, she didn’t think he’d done any deep damage, and that was good enough for him.

Honestly, he wasn’t even all that concerned about scarring, which seemed to surprise Wendy. (No doubt she also had weird ideas about his supposed vanity like Mac.)

He’d already gotten plenty of scars from general recklessness growing up; ice Pokémon were definitely among the… _pointiest_ , and gymnastics wasn’t exactly considered a gentle hobby after all. Between all those and his stretchmarks he’d long appreciated that he was pretty lucky in terms of scarring, most of them fading to a sort of pearly colour, unobtrusive considering how pale he ended up in Circhester’s climate. 

He wasn’t really a short sleeve sort of guy anyway.

The situation still bloody sucked though, definitely not how he’d intended to spend today.

Then again had he intended to spend it in the midst of an emotional crisis, or spilling his childhood traumas to Wendy of all people?

So, it was definitely in line with everything else that had happened so far, even if he wasn’t happy about it. 

After possibly the most painful arm wash he’d ever had, an antibiotic cream, some dressing, and about half a million warnings about how it could have been _much, much_ worse later, he was finally ready to leave.

He was _so_ ready to leave.

At this point what could today throw at him? Unless Mac literally cut off his ear or something, he really didn’t think it could go much worse than the last few hours had.

Though, apparently, they were willing to give it a pretty good attempt.

That they weren’t back in time for the afternoon session was the only saving grace, considering most the trainers had gone home already. Less people to gawk at him and Frosty, still refusing to retreat while she knew he was injured… which boded fantastically for the next few weeks of his life.

Of course he could never be entirely lucky though, meaning there were some stragglers there to stare and whisper… including Kiera.

Probably intentional, Mac wouldn’t want to waste time with drama when their first matches were in a week. If it was within his power, he’d have had this sorted already.

Of course Gordie had gotten in the way of that hadn’t he?

The man seemed entirely unsympathetic, unsurprisingly, facing Gordie about it in his office. He was alone, having left Wendy looking after Frosty, too scared that she’d try and defend him if she sensed hostility from Mac, in light of everything earlier.

The leader just listened, silent and stone-faced, as Gordie explained what had happened. (He made sure to play dumb about the portable power spots, having explained the need for complete secrecy to Wendy while they were making their way over.)

“Your own Coalossal did that to you?” Mac asked.

“He didn’t mean to! It wasn’t like he was attacking, he was running scared and well… I briefly forget he’s like three times my weight and tried to stop him.” Gordie defended. “He would _never_ intentionally hurt anyone. He didn’t even hurt the guys with the box.”

Well… presumably. But Mac didn’t need to know that. 

“How do you know it was the box that set him off?” He asked, with unnerving focus.

Crap.

He couldn’t exactly tell him about the last time this had happened; Mac was probably more loyal to the league than he was to Gordie, who seemed to be little more than an inconvenience to him right now. What if he ended up telling Macro Cosmos what he and Opal had done?

Gordie couldn’t betray her trust like that. 

Mac didn’t seem convinced by the replacement explanation about his first meeting with Coalossal however.

He seemed… disappointed? Gordie’s stomach churned with the feeling, and he felt genuinely nauseous at the possibility of this on top of everything else that had happened today.

That was before Mac came up with his ‘solution’ too.

“I don’t think that’s enough proof to go off.” He said sternly. “It’s not enough for me to be happy having him compete under our gym’s banner either.”

“Wait… are you _banning_ him from my team?”

“Do I have any choice? He landed his own trainer in the hospital, and you can’t prove what set him off!” Mac argued.

“How about the bastards who used that thing to terrorise him and torment their own team?” Gordie challenged.

“And what if you’re wrong? Even if you’re right… how do you know he’s come out of that unscarred? If you can convince me he’s not gonna do it again, then _do it_.” He answered firmly.

Except Gordie he couldn’t.

_(Would Coalossal do it again?)_

“This feels like you’re just punishing him because you’re annoyed at me. He’s not _dangerous_!” He argued, wincing as he realised how loud it had come out.

Anyone waiting outside would have heard that.

“All Pokémon can be dangerous, don’t be naïve, I’ve seen Coalossals do much worse for less in the mines.” Then Mac paused, a heavy, poisonous silence. “It’s funny about punishment…Do _you_ think you’ve done something wrong?”

The question felt like some bizarre psychological warfare, and honestly at this point, Gordie would rather he just take the ear off.

“Well… The guy with the box said you didn’t like Wendy fighting… but I don’t know if there’s a history there or something, so, I-I don’t know!” 

“You’re an adult, you know the difference between right and wrong.” Mac said sharply.

Now was the time to lie, to preserve this conversation even a little bit, Gordie knew.

But he was bloody fed up with today.

“ _Fine_. No, I don’t think I was wrong, but I’m fairly certain you do. So whatever, do your worst. Just don’t blame Coalossal for this, he’s done _nothing_ wrong.”

It seemed like he had been the victim of humans again and again, and yet he still hadn’t been the aggressor. But if Gordie wasn’t allowed to train with him here, poor Coalossal would probably believe that Gordie blamed him for what happened.

Gordie wouldn’t let that happen without a fight.

“Why would I punish you if you’ve done nothing wrong?” Mac asked, smiling stiffly.

Seriously, what the fuck was he playing at?

“Me and Wendy will get this incident reported to the police. She’s asked to do it anonymously, so I doubt they’ll need you for questions.” He continued, casually, as if none of that had just happened.

Gordie really hoped Wendy didn’t tell Mac anything, she’d promised she wouldn’t… but he had a weird way of getting under someone’s skin. She knew him better though, maybe she would be able to cope with it better than Gordie could.

Apparently Mac wasn’t going to force him and Kiera to reconcile today though, which was a relief considering literally everything else he was still processing from earlier.

Who the fuck cared that someone had once had a crush on him now?

Though, as he went to the door, Mac decided to deliver the actual blow.

“Oh, Gordie, one more thing.”

There was something dangerous there, he could tell, turning to face him head on.

“What?” He asked.

“I think with your injuries, and the stress, it’s wiser to sit you out from our first matches.” Mac said, with false pleasantness.

 _There_ was the bloody punishment then.

Saving it until last just to rub salt in the wound.

“Right, of course… I’m guessing you still want me in to train _your_ team though?” Gordie asked, not caring how harshly it came out.

“Do you not feel up to it right now?” Mac asked calmly. “You can have a few days sick if you’d like to.”

“Sod off about sick days! Why should I do your job when you’re cutting me out?”

“They’re your team too, you should _want_ them to succeed. Don’t be a brat because you don’t get the spotlight in these matches.”

_A brat?_

He wasn’t the one penalising a trainer more experience than even himself because of something that wasn’t even against gym rules. After he’d already burnt his bloody arm.

More than ever, he couldn’t fight that little voice that told him he should’ve taken this fucking gym while he’d had the chance. 

He turned back to the door and bit the cut on his lip to stop himself blurting it out, the sting grounding him, reminding him of what had happened earlier.

A lesson that the last thing he needed right now was to get into more fights.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, if you don’t have anything else.” He said instead, not sticking around to find out either way.

Wendy went in after him, actually reaching out to give his good shoulder a reassuring squeeze, which made it obvious that she’d heard everything.

Where were Frosty and the rest of his team though? She’d gone in empty handed.

An overwhelming panic was setting in, trapping the breath in his throat, like a part of him was missing.

He was being stupid, they had to be somewhere, where would they have gone to?

It was easy to make Pokémon disappear though, he’d gotten rid of his entire ice team after all, it had only taken minutes.

Arceus, what if Macro Cosmos found out about this and tried to take Coalossal for research? It was obvious that he was reacting to the portable power spots, he hadn’t even seen the one that had been used on Sinistea. 

What could he possibly do to stop them taking Coalossal away if they wanted to?

“Gordie?”

He turned to the source of the noise, not sure if he was relieved or scared to find Frosmoth in Kiera’s arms. 

“Frosty.” He said before he could stop the words slipping out, a strange breathless relief in his tone, making him sound as helpless as the child he’d been when he’d said her name for the first time.

Why the fuck had Wendy given Frosty to Kiera of all people? Was she gonna hand her to Silver next time he asked?

“It’s Kiera actually.” Kiera said flatly.

“Sorry! I know that, I er, meant-”

“I know. I was trying to be deadpan, maybe not the right time?” She said wryly “I was just making sure you knew she was okay.”

Fuck, had the meeting sounded so bad that even _Kiera_ was pitying him now?

He honestly felt sick.

“Yeah, er, thanks.” He said, reaching to take Frosty and his bag.

Not exactly the smoothest resolution after everything earlier, but what was he _supposed_ to say?

‘Sorry, I know I made you cry earlier, but I’m having a really bad day so please put your emotions on hold until I’m ready to deal with them’ didn’t seem like it would go over all that well.

“Gordie, you don’t have to carry that, we’re heading the same way anyway.” She said, holding his bag out of reach.

Right, this wouldn’t be awkward at all.

At least she’d returned Frosmoth though, Gordie reflected, already feeling more stable for having her with him.

“You wanna grab the train together?” He asked, just to check that they were in fact in the same bloody reality.

“We can if you want, or we could split a taxi, it’s been… a long day.”

Longer for some than others, he was willing to bet.

Arceus, how pathetic was it that he’d honestly rather she yell at him than this quiet, stepping on eggshells sort of pity.

But, for once, he was too tired to fight.

“That sounds like a really good idea.” He agreed.

Though by the point they were actually in the air it was quickly becoming obvious that it really hadn’t been, a stifling awkwardness filling the space, with even the driver reluctant to talk in the current atmosphere. 

“I suppose you heard what happened, when I was talking to Mac?” He finally broached.

“Wendy told me actually, I’m not an eavesdropper.” Kiera replied stiffly.

“Oh, that er, that makes sense. She wouldn’t chuck Frosmoth at you without any context.”

“There’s really not all that much context. Ex-ice trainer has ice Pokémon isn’t that hard a concept to grasp.” 

It wasn’t really, was it?

“Right.” He said.

As if proving that it could _always_ get worse, the silence that fell following that exchange was even more awkward than the one that had preceded it. The bloody driver went as far as to bring down the divider so he didn’t have to stew in it.

Not that Gordie blamed him.

Still, despite a rapidly falling victory ratio for today, he wanted to try and sort this out.

“You don’t have to be alright with me.” He began. “I totally get why you’re not. I just… I want to try and make classes alright for you. I meant it this morning when I said I only want what’s best for this gym.”

“Oh really? You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Tantrums over not being allowed to compete don’t exactly scream team spirit.” She said.

“I thought you weren’t an eavesdropper?”

“Didn’t need to. You got quite loud at the end there.” She shrugged.

_Of course._

“I won’t pretend that I don’t want to compete. Of course I do, I want to compete at the highest level possible… I want to fight in the majors, with my rock team. How is that any different to anyone else at our gym though?” He challenged. “Plus that’s not even why I was angry.”

“Oh I’m sure it’s for all of _our_ sakes, just like always. How could we even work if we didn’t revolve around you after all?”

He wouldn’t go as far as to pretend it was for the gym.

Mac had just insulted someone Gordie cared about more than that. 

“Mac was out of order about Coalossal. He has _no_ right to act like he’s dangerous, or that he’d ever hurt anyone. That Pokémon has been intentionally harmed by people before, but he still tried to escape instead of fight today. He’s _good_.” 

Kiera didn’t seem to have much to say in response to that, or at the very least was taking her sweet time gathering a response. 

“That Coalossal… he’s the gigantamaxed one that turned up in near the city centre isn’t he?” She finally said.

He hadn’t been _that_ loud in telling Mac, had he?

“You heard that part?” Gordie asked. “You seriously can’t pretend you weren’t eavesdropping.”

“I didn’t need to hear it, I already figured he would be!”

“Wait, did you see it in the news? Because that was before I started joining you for training… how didn’t you recognise me?”

He hoped that didn’t sound vain, but his incognito look really hadn’t been all that effective, and something really didn’t add up.

Maybe she’d just searched for info on him after Oliver told her the truth.

“Stop being dense!” She scolded. “I didn’t have to hear it from the news either, I promise you I heard _plenty_ about you without having to turn on the telly even once.”

What?

Oh, right. She probably got first hand recounts, didn’t she? Gordie was certain Liana would have had loads of stories that included him at Circhester… just normal workday stories for her back then.

_Had she put a lot of focus on the guy she’d apparently liked?_

A guy she’d definitely hate now, he reminded himself, before he could think too hard on the… _fuzziness_ that bloomed from the former idea.

How bad must his day have been for him suddenly to feel nostalgic for that time?

“Oh, sorry, that makes more sense… Yeah, that was him.”

“Bet you were shitting it.” She suddenly said, laughing a little.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, having to pretend that he wasn’t like… your _dream_ Pokémon as you were fighting him. The others seemed to think you’d handed him over to Macro Cosmos.”

Really not the time for that, considering his re-stoked fears that they’d want him to do exactly that.

“I- I couldn’t. They tried to make me… but there’s just something about him, I guess I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t alone, that they wouldn’t do anything bad to him.”

“I suppose getting to keep him was one of the perks of the job?”

The scorn behind her words was obvious.

“Look, I know that you have this _impression_ of why I took the job at Circhester-” He began.

“Oh spare me.” She interrupted sharply. “You really think I haven’t heard this?”

“What? I haven’t-”

“Please, even Mac was trying to win me over with your soppy family motivations. Well guess what, I don’t care. You and your mum were leaders, your team should have been the most important thing to you, the gym itself is just… abstract. You accepted a job most people would give anything for when you didn’t even want it, and then tried to hide when it just flat out wasn’t working. I don’t have _any_ sympathy for you.”

Well then… guess they’d cleared that up.

She wasn’t wrong, he knew.

He didn’t exactly have anything he could say to that… he was already too tired from earlier to even try.

He didn’t disagree even! 

Gordie wasn’t sure what height they were at, but he wondered if it would be worth just jumping out now?

(Only if it would kill him instantly, he ruminated.)

Arceus, was this going to pull out from behind and end up being the worst part of his day?

“I’m sorry.” Kiera suddenly said. “Shouldn’t have kicked you like that when you’re already down.”

_What?_

She was giving him bloody whiplash!

But she’d made it abundantly clear how she felt, he didn’t want any false kindness now. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought the exact things she was saying a million times before.

How many months had he wasted after losing Circhester just… thinking, thinking exactly that?

He knew the truth better than anyone.

“Look you don’t have to pretend to be alright with me because I’m injured.” He said, not wanting to fake it.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning to. I’m just not low enough to force you to make your way home alone in your condition, and I shouldn’t lay into you when you can’t leave… I just hate it when they defend you, and I hate those stupid _arguments_ because I’ve heard them all before.”

“What do you mean?”

“No! We’re not doing this. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff this morning… they wouldn’t have wanted you to know, I can’t keep blurting this stuff behind their backs.”

“Wait… Are you talking about Oliver and Liana?” He asked.

Sure, Oliver was alright with him now. But defending him? And Liana too? That had to be wrong.

“Urgh! Why are you like this? Can’t you just let it lie and mind your own business for once?”

“I’m sorry, but surely this _is_ my business? You’re literally talking about me.”

“Right, and for once can we not?” She replied.

_For once?_

What was _that_ supposed to mean?

“When do people talk about me?” He asked, suddenly paranoid once more.

“For fuck’s sake, I tell you I was stuck between two people who had a crush on you and you still act like it’s a surprise? Stop with the false modesty, for all of us.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just odd to imagine that people have conversations about you when you’re not there!” He defended. “Especially when you’re suggesting they were defending me.”

Kiera rolled her eyes scornfully.

“Don’t worry, everyone’s got plenty of excuse for perfect, little Gordie. He never wanted to lie and control two gyms at once, he just wanted to do right by mummy and his own heart!” She mocked in a theatrical voice. 

She really, really didn’t like him. More so than any of the others.

“But if they’re okay then why do _you_ hate me? It wasn’t you who got hurt.” He asked, angry at just how far she’d taken this grudge when they’d moved on.

Just like this morning, she watched him as if he were an idiot.

“Because you broke their hearts dipshit! You hurt two people that I _love_ , and they’re too blind to hate you for it, so I guess that leaves me to do it for them both. I had to watch powerlessly, as you did it, and you have the gall to say I wasn’t hurt?”

He understood being less forgiving to those who hurt your loved ones, rather than yourself, but how the fuck would he have done what she was claiming? He hadn’t led them on at all, despite what she seemed to think.

“I don’t get how that can be true, I was only there for six months! Even less time for Oliver. There is no way they saw something in me that… affected them that much.”

“Believe me Gordie, I don’t see it either.” Kiera jibed.

Apparently that wasn’t all she had to say on the topic though, suddenly taking on a more sombre tone. 

“I remember how sad Liana was for your mum after everything… Now I had no love for Circhester, and Arceus do I wish the girl would shut up about it occasionally, but I was right there with her. She’s my sister Gordie, I’ll always be there for her… But then you were there too.”

Why did Liana just… _care_ about him and his mum? They were cold, distant people, to the point where his mother had built an entire career off of the premise.

He knew he didn’t deserve that sort of automatic kindness, and that he’d have even less idea of what to do with it. 

“She was… excited.” Kiera continued. “Maybe not for all the right reasons, but your ego _really_ doesn’t need to hear what she was saying. Beyond all that though, she seemed to really believe you had a vison for that gym, that she’d get to shape its history too… imagine how it felt when she realised you’d never cared.”

Now definitely wasn’t the time to explain that yes please, his self-esteem might in fact like to hear nice things very much, as… inconsistent (okay, just fragile) as it could be.

He resented the implication that he’d never cared about Circhester more than the other bit though, if he’d never cared he wouldn’t have let the pressure of it crush him entire life.

“You made her more hopeful for the future of the gym, _her future_ , than I’d ever seen. But I’m not like my sister Gordie, I know that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is.”

She paused, making sure to send him a sharp look, to let him know exactly how she saw him. 

“Then you turned up at mine and Ollie’s gym… and the name was the same, and some of what she’d said about how you looked added up, but you were nothing like the man she kept describing to me. I still haven’t quite figured out if she was delusional, or if you’re just the most accomplished actor I’ve ever met.”

He forced himself not to focus on what the things she said about ‘how he looked’ were, it didn’t seem important now anyway, considering Kiera seemed to think he was just… completely hollow.

“I was her boss! I was in a position I’d been taught I’d have to take one day since I was a child.” He defended. “I’m not gonna apologise for having a different demeanour, it was my bloody job!”

“Being fake was your job? Pretending you could drop it all around Liana while lying about yourself was your job too then, I guess?”

“I wasn’t fake, I just kept thing professional. Most of the people there had known me since I was five, and saw me make all the most embarrassing mistakes of my life; do you think they respected me? I had to be that version of myself, it was a survival mechanism!”

He averted his gaze from hers, sure that his cheeks were burning as he wiped at his eyes. 

“Liana was the only one in the league squad who hadn’t been a trainer back then, she was the only one I felt actually… saw me, and didn’t just look down on me, or look through me. It wasn’t fake. I know I wasn’t a very good friend, but I wasn’t trying to manipulate her… I’m just _really_ not very good at this.”

Arceus, Gordie really didn’t want to do this now.

He felt _raw_ , like everything today had just been peeling away at him, at everything that had felt alright or comfortable at this new place.

Was it always just Circhester underneath?

Maybe it wasn’t peeling, he thought wryly, maybe it was s _earing_ instead, literally, and figuratively. The irony that the actual burn had been the least painful part wasn’t lost on him (though it was saying something, considering it still fucking hurt).

He wondered what he’d end up finding underneath.

Would he just melt away fully, nothing but ice all along?

“I never knew about her feelings, but like I said, I was her boss! It would have been predatory anyway… I’m glad I’m didn’t know!” He finished.

Kiera seemed unmoved.

“You’re happy that you didn’t know because it made things easy for you. But it made things hard for her Gordie, and it’s like you don’t even care.”

What would have changed if he had known, other than him becoming incapable of functioning around her like a human being?

“What am I supposed to do in this situation?” He challenged. “Seriously, this has never happened to me before. If you have something you think will make it better, then tell me and I will do it! Because I was already wracked with guilt over it before I knew how they felt, and I would honestly do anything to fix it!”

“Then why did you never apologise to her?” Kiera simply replied.

“ _What?”_

Her glare was venomous, and he felt himself shrink back.

“Don’t play dumb! When you wanted to join a rock gym you apologised to me and Ollie, because you didn’t know our plans had fallen through. Where was Liana’s apology if you were so sad and guilty?”

“I didn’t have her number! I didn’t think any of you would want to hear from me anyway or I would’ve asked you! I didn’t even want your gym, I just wanted to try and make things right so we could all move on.”

He’d barely felt like a _person_ back then anyway, he’d been so low. Part of him had hated himself for burdening them by reaching out.

He’d just wanted a clean slate. 

“You could have asked me, you could have risked it if you cared that much, and I’m pretty sure you could guess where she’d be in the day and do it face to face like a man if you really cared!”

Not the time to point out that men notoriously did not face their feelings, he decided.

“I haven’t been to Circhester _once_ since everything… It took me over two years after the last time I left. That place has a fucking hold over me, and I know that I can’t explain it without sounding insane… but I can’t go. I can’t face them. ”

He was right, she did seem to think he was insane. How was he supposed to explain any of this? Earlier he’d told Wendy more about his life then he could ever remember telling anyone, but now it was like… he was empty, or locked maybe.

A do not enter sign, keeping everyone else out of his life.

The quiet that feel was uncomfortable, but it was better than whatever accusations she would throw at him next, he assumed.

“You really want to make this right?” Keira asked, out of the silence.

Like she said earlier, if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

There was no way she was giving him a solution.

“Yes.” He answered regardless.

“Then stay away from both of them. Don’t hurt them more than you already have.” She declared.

What?

Stay away from them?

It was probably directed more towards Oliver, considering he was doing a fine job of staying away from Liana anyway. (Though if he ever tried to challenge Circhester, it might complicate things.)

Hadn’t he and Oliver already made things right though?

“But I’m not hurting Oliver, we’re friends.” He said, arguing as much.

“No, you’re not. He’s a sweetheart who got a crush on a guy he didn’t really know, and couldn’t accept it when you weren’t who he thought you were. He’s only forgiven you because he’s holding onto that false hope.”

“You’re wrong.”

“How self-absorbed are you if you think you know my best friend better than I do? Please Gordie, I will act like _everything_ is fine in the gym if you just let them both… move on.”

“I’m not stopping them!” He tried. 

“You’re the one who said you can’t deal with this. If that’s true, don’t lead them on. I don’t want to tell them I blurted all of this, but it isn’t fair! If you won’t admit that you know, then I’ll come clean to them.”

“You’d embarrass them just to prove a point?”

“It’s not proving a point. There are worse things than being embarrassed Gordie! It passes. Do you know how _embarrassed_ they were once they realised that they’d liked someone who’d been playing them for a mug? I’ll give you a clue, I didn’t fucking care, because their tears were a lot more pressing.”

He could argue plenty over the scars of humiliation, and the tears of it too, but had he really made them cry?

It was strange, he’d spent months imagining how they felt, how they hated him for his secrets, his failures.

Months of fiery rage, and cold spite, and a few scenarios of impossible reconciliations; but he’d never believed they’d cry because of him. That he’d leave them feeling bereft.

Somehow it was like he’d done it all over again.

Because all those imaginary reaction had been for him, to help him… process things, torture himself; whatever. But this wasn’t about him, was it? 

If this was what would do right by them, shouldn’t he do it for once? Even if it made him feel bad?

“I’m sorry Kiera.” He finally said.

“You’re not going to do it, are you.” She said, something less than a question.

“No… I will.” He answered, earning him a look of shock. “You’re right. I won’t be able to make things right if I stick around.”

How could he make things right for anyone? He’d managed to utterly decimate everything that had been going right for him at the gym in a single _day_ , solely by trying to make things better with Kiera.

“Right.” She replied. “Okay… alright then. I’ll make sure to behave in classes.”

“Great.” He said, smiling.

Wendy’s little trick had already proved more useful in a single day then any other advice he’d ever been given.

At least he’d reached a compromise with Kiera, which is the one thing he’d wanted from today. Even if it was a stifled, silent one where clearly no one was actually satisfied.

It didn’t matter, he was used to the cold shoulder. The sky itself seemed to be giving them one, the gradual snow through the window letting him know they were in Circhester.

Not a moment too soon.

(Many, many moments too late in fact, but nevermind.) 

He disembarked way too far from his house, but the pain of his bag was nothing compared to this journey. 

For the first time all day he was _truly_ alone, unwilling to walk around Circhester with Frosty right now, not least of all because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from crying the second she tried to give him any comfort.

He liked the anonymity of it, having covered his uniform with his coat. 

He could be anyone.

What he’d give to be anyone else right now.

What was he supposed to tell his mother? He couldn’t hide his arm, but maybe he could say it was a training accident?

He had form lying after all, Kiera had proved.

Clearly he wasn’t nearly as accomplished at it as either of them thought though. All it took was a concerned hand brushing his face and her asking what was wrong for him to crumple.

He told her everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy one year since SWSH release! I feel like writing 15k words of Gordie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day truly captures the spirit of it. (This is actually a shorter version of the chapter, but I realised it had to stop at some point.)


	29. What remains?

Already his dream was retreating, whatever noise had woken him up banishing the last remnants of it, leaving behind only the unpleasant realisation of how much of the day _hadn’t_ been a dream. He looked around blearily at the intruding light, finding the living room surrounding him instead of his bedroom.

An afternoon nap then?

At some point his mother must have adjusted him a little, having fetched the old throw quilt she’d found out a while back, practically tucking him in from the looks of it. Ordinarily he’d be embarrassed, hardly needing to be put to bed at his age, but well… he was tired today. Why start _another_ fight when they really didn’t need to?

It had been Coalossal of all things that had thrown him over the edge, after everything.

When he’d explained the day’s events to his mother it had all been… _raw_ ; the sort of raw where you couldn’t properly take stock of what really hurt yet. The shock of the burn, and the battle, may have been wearing off, but there had still been a part of everything that hadn’t felt real, hadn’t felt _permanent_. No tears had come then, even if he’d felt himself going through all the motions.

Some part of him had felt broken for it, though he’d quickly figured out that he could cry just fine while unpacking his team from his bag, Frosty once more out circling the air around him, a sentinel for a danger that wouldn’t come. Not here at least.

Then came Coalossal’s turn.

Gordie knew all of his Pokeballs by touch, but he could almost believe he’d been mistaken. He had to have been.

Because it was cold.

Cold, and heavy, like a stone… like it had never been before.

Granted, Gordie wasn’t exactly a fire type expert, but it didn’t take a genius to figure what that meant, did it?

That had brought it all crashing down, in a way.

Coalossal wasn’t okay.

Gordie didn’t think he was okay either.

No doubt he looked a complete mess when his mom found him (undoubtedly drawn by the noise), slumped over and all cried out, Frosty desperately flocking around his arm as if that was what hurt.

He couldn’t figure out where it did hurt.

He still couldn’t, actually, though he definitely felt better for some sleep, and the shower his mom had made him take before he’d come back down. 

“Hey.” His mother called out gently. “You alright?”

“Better for some sleep.” He reassured.

“Sorry to wake you but the food’s here, you need to eat.”

Though he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he really didn’t have the mettle for food at all right now; the mere thought of it turned his stomach. Still, there was no point worrying his mother more than he already had. 

“Wait… Did you pay?” He asked, suddenly realising. “I didn’t put the money on the side.”

It was his fault he’d missed dinner, not getting around to explaining he’d be back late. His mother shouldn’t have to put herself out of pocket because he was an idiot.

“It’s fine, I skipped lunch earlier, so I was planning on nabbing some of the pakoras anyway.”

Yeah right, she was probably just trying to make him feel better about being an irresponsible berk.

He really was bloody exhausted though, and he didn’t want to put up an argument when he understood that she was only doing this because she cared.

The smell of it was settling his stomach a little anyway he found, opening the box for his korma without bothering to fetch a bowl, suddenly a little put out that he had to split the pakoras, though he knew he didn’t exactly have the right to be selfish with the sides when she’d bought it all.

When the triplets started stealing his chips however, it was inexcusable. Especially when they tried to moan that he didn’t need them because he had naan too. They’d had lunch and dinner, surely they needed it less the little shits?

Still, aside from that, they were being quite cute actually. Suddenly acting cuddly and almost doting because of his injured arm. (Even if they had ignored his protests that his bandage wasn’t a cast, and they couldn’t go around signing it like they had for another kid in their year.)

Though they quickly reverted to wanted to be the ones being looked after when it came to bedtime, making endless demands of him as if they’d completely forgotten he’d hurt his arm. Their scrawled names on the dressing should have been enough of a reminder, but nevermind.

Their enthusiasm was infectious, and while it couldn’t fix everything, it made him physically unable to wallow in miserable thoughts. He supposed they were too… _distracting_ , for that. (Probably good they were going to sleep just in time for prime wallowing hours, he mused.)

It was his mother he was more concerned with right now; she’d taken enough of the food (including dipping some of the naan bread in his curry, which was a little gross but again, she’d paid) that he was convinced that she had been telling the truth about missing lunch after all.

Not a huge surprise really, skipping meals to work solidly through her breaks had always been a familiar pattern for her, though it usually heralded that a particular tricky situation for Circhester was upcoming.

So why now?

He hadn’t seen anything around suggesting that a shit match was scheduled soon.

In fact, this was supposed to be a relatively light time of year for the majors, considering they were in the midst of preparing for the league challenge on top of everything else.

As if proving he was in a truly strange mood, the question escaped before he could stop it.

“Everything alright at work?” He asked, unable to hold it in now that the triplets were separated by a closed door.

(Though would that really prevent them from eavesdropping, he wondered.)

“Hmmm, me?” His mother asked casually.

“No, I was worried that Pearl wasn’t meeting her performance targets.” He said dryly. “Yes you!”

“Alright, no need to get snappy. It was just an unusual question is all.”

An understatement if there had ever been one. It hadn’t escaped either of their notices that Circhester was a no-go topic most of the time, without someone like Kabu to act as a buffer. When they didn’t need to keep up appearances it was best to avoid potential topics for nastiness full stop.

Inviting the conversation out of the blue was bizarre, he knew, but why not? He’d had a weird enough day already and if his mother was worried about an upcoming match, maybe talking over it would be helpful.

“You look pouty.” She teased. “Don’t worry about me, everything’s fine. We were just a little later starting league challenge prep this year, so I’m busier than normal. That’s all.”

That was _all_?

That raised about a million more questions!

Melony was never late with these things, it was inconceivable. 

Was this his fault? Maybe he should have been spending more time looking after the little ones and the house; Arceus knew he wasn’t nearly as helpful as his stepdad had been. But then, wasn’t his mother the one who kept pushing him to do his own thing?

What if this wasn’t even an issue due to him? It wasn’t a secret between them that on some level, Melony had never intended to return, hadn’t wanted to take back Circhester once she was confident it would be alright in her absence. Only it _hadn’t_ been, and now she was stuck there again.

But was that not what she really wanted?

“Gord? You alright?” She asked, leaving him wondering for a way to ask all of _that_ without sounding like a conspiracist?

(Or worse, a meddler).

“Did Liana ever pitch you a uniform design?” He asked instead, surprised at himself as it came out.

Apparently Kiera’s words hadn’t _quite_ escaped his head yet.

Worse, his mother seemed to catch onto that immediately, apparently unconcerned at the sudden change of track. 

“I reckon that must have been reserved for you…” She replied, almost smugly. “Is she holding out on me?”

Great.

Bloody great.

Was he implicating Liana in disloyalty now too?

“No!” He defended. “They… They wouldn’t have been your style. I was just, er, curious.”

They really hadn’t been his mother’s style, had they?

Had he realised at the time what Liana managing to do that meant? To separate his own way of being from Melony’s while he was in the gym she chose, wearing the clothes she chose and training only with the Pokémon she deemed acceptable? Even he couldn’t see himself in it!

Suddenly he somehow felt entirely too exposed.

“Sweetheart, is it what that girl said earlier that’s playing on your mind? Because, I honestly think Liana would let you say your piece if-”

“No! It’s fine.” He interrupted. “I have bigger problems right now anyway.”

“Coalossal.” His mother replied, no hint of a question in her tone.

Ding, ding, ding. They had a winner.

“Got it in one.” He muttered.

Obviously. How could it not be Coalossal?

The only real, tangible link to his tenure running Circhester. Surely the poor bastard had been marked for disaster from the start? With only Gordie looking after him at least.

He focused on keeping his breathing under control, desperately wanting to avoid spiralling and bursting into tears again. Opal was definitely still awake, so she’d hear, even from her room.

“Because you can’t fight next week, _or_ …?”

“Because I just have no idea what to do with him!” Gordie admitted. “I want to help him feel better, I want to be able to train with him again… but is it cruel to do that if he’s really scared of those things? I can tell he’s… not right after today, what if it’s permanent? What if he’s not meant for this?”

“That’s a lot of ‘whats’.”

“I don’t have any answers! And Mac isn’t gonna bloody relent until I do.” His hissed, only just remembering to be mindful of volume around young ears.

Though, despite his expectations, his mother didn’t scold him for swearing on the landing anyway. She just watched, so gently that he couldn’t bear it, certain he’d cry once more.

“Why don’t we go downstairs?” She suggested. “We’ll figure something out, don’t just torture yourself in the meantime.”

Part of him wanted to believe that, desperately longed to believe that his mom could keep him safe and solve all his problems. But he wasn’t a child anymore, that wasn’t how it worked.

He went downstairs regardless, throwing himself at the sofa in a way where he was less sitting on it, and more draped across it, the sudden position reminding him of a tumbling pass. The thought was calming, surprisingly. Centring him somehow.

Probably all the blood rushing to his head, he mused. 

“You’re really torn up about all this, aren’t you?” His mother asked, stating the bloody obvious.

Wouldn’t she be torn up in his position?

The look on his face must have said as much, because she continued a little more gently.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to rub it in. You just… you really love the little guy, don’t you?”

Well, that could explain why it had blown up in his face today specifically… just a bad day for love all around. Should have checked his horoscope, he thought wryly, might have warned him the stars just weren’t aligned for anything positive right now.

“Of course I do.” He replied.

Though he belatedly realised that maybe that hadn’t been what his mother was really saying.

_‘You love him more than you ever loved the ones we caught together. Than mine.’_

If that was what she actually meant, she thought better of voicing it aloud. Part of him did feel sorry for her though, he supposed it might feel like a personal rejection of sorts.

It wasn’t… it really wasn’t.

But for all the pieces of himself that were the same as her, this wasn’t one of them.

He just understood Coalossal in a way he couldn’t any of his old team, his new team seemed to see him eye to eye.

“I don’t even care if we can compete.” He admitted. “I just… I just want to make sure I’m looking after him in a way that makes him happiest. But I have no idea how to find out without making him miserable in the process.” 

“Maybe this isn’t as difficult as you think.” His mother said bluntly. “I know what I’d do in the situation.”

Well then, he supposed that was that then.

“You gonna tell me what to do if it’s so easy?” Gordie replied, sharply.

He didn’t care that it was rude, she was being rude by being so dismissive when she knew exactly how much this was hurting him.

She didn’t seem put off though.

“You’re a Pokémon trainer! Train him. If it does bother him, you can help him. Show him that when he’s with you, he doesn’t have to be afraid of anything.”

Right now she sounded how her remembered her, always pushing him, acting like her given solutions were obvious and that he should already be at the finish line.

But he wasn’t a child anymore, he wouldn’t just take it lying down.

“Easier said than done! How can I train him around dynamaxes without putting other people in danger? I doubt anyone would appreciate me turning up to a max raid with a Pokémon afraid of power spots.”

“If only you had access to a privately owned power spot you could guarantee would have no one around.” She rebutted.

The sarcastic contempt was obvious.

There was no way she meant what it sounded like though.

She _couldn’t._

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I kid about this?”

“We can’t use Circhester! What would people think if they found out?”

“Gordie, capturing Coalossal was a duty you were given back at Circhester to help protect people. It was your job. And it’s my job too.” She said. “We have to make sure no Pokémon here pose a public safety risk. There is nothing wrong with using the stadium to test that, especially if it tells us something else about the other Pokémon this happened to.”

Well, he’d heard flimsier excuses, if not all that many.

It explained the glibness though. Even though she’d already said she accepted his choice to diversify into rock-types this was… different, somehow. There was some sort of tacit surrender here, the significance of practically loaning him Circhester for a fire and rock type not lost on him.

In a way it felt like she was offering a goodbye, a farewell to all the times he’d trained there her way growing up.

He couldn’t imagine this was easy for her, even if she was trying to be flippant.

“Thank you.” Was all he could say, hoping that she’d be able to tell how much he meant it.

“It’s not a problem. We’ll sort this out, I promise. Focus on your team’s matches next week first though, I’ll iron out the details and we’ll get started after that.” She replied, authoritatively.

A little bit of him wanted to argue that they didn’t have the time, but it was strange hearing her focus on _his_ team instead. Obviously, it would paint him in a bad light if he stopped focusing on their training at the last minute… but why would she care about that?

“Besides, that’s not what I wanna talk about, I’ve had enough doom and gloom for one day. We’ve ended up glossing over something important.”

“The unauthorised battling?” He cautiously guessed.

He didn’t particular want to talk over it, but he supposed he couldn’t avoid it when she was offering so much to help him with the aftermath.

“Again, _not great_ , but you’re an adult, I can’t control what you do. Plus, finding out about the power spots might actually have helped someone, so not a complete loss.”

As if. What were the chances that Macro Cosmos weren’t already aware and just squashing the story?

“Besides.” She continued. “I think you’ve already suffered enough over that.”

Well, yeah, his arm bloody smarted… and all that stuff with Mac too, though he really didn’t want to have to keep ruminating on it all evening.

“If it’s not that then what’s up?” He asked, desperate to change the topic. 

Had he fucked up something else and just managed to miss it?

But something in his mother’s shifting expression told him that wasn’t quite it.

“I can’t believe Liana had a crush on you!” She cooed. “And that boy from the rock gym too! Breaking hearts even before you’ve knocked anyone out of the league.”

Oh.

This was worse actually.

Much worse.

Even if he’d wanted to, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop his groan, grabbing one of the cushions to cover his face; to spare himself the smug looks at the very least. (His bad arm twinging for his efforts.)

“You think maybe you’re being a little melodramatic?” Was the only response he got for it.

He took stock of his surroundings, draped across the sofa, world upside down as he strained his neck over the arm of it, lowering the cushion to look her in the eye.

Alright, granted, she _may_ have had a point. But there was a relief settling over him now that they had a plan for Coalossal, leaving plenty of room for abject embarrassment in place of his previous dread.

“Trust me, I _know_ I am.” He admitted. “I just… don’t understand what I’m supposed to bloody do with the information! I honestly wish Kiera had never told me.”

“This shouldn’t be a bad thing Gord, you should be flattered!”

Should he? It certainly didn’t feel that way.

“Don’t you think that seems a little… I dunno, _cold_?” He asked. “Being ‘flattered’ is basically just blowing someone off when they’re-” _Wasting their time liking someone like him._ “-into you.”

Though it was a bit tricky to tell from this angle, his mother seemed to be watching him a little sadly, or maybe just pityingly.

“Gord… I know you mean well, but that’s not how it works. Not wanting someone to be sad isn’t the same thing as liking them back. Besides you’re only one person, I don’t think they’d appreciate having to share.” She joked, clearly trying to raise the mood.

Though to be fair to them, there was _quite_ a lot of him; sharing may not be impossible after all.

“You’re right…. Maybe I should grab a ditto and-”He joked.

“Gordie!” She interrupted.

“ _Kidding_!”

“Well it’s not funny! You shouldn’t feel pressured into ‘solving’ anything. It doesn’t matter how much you like them as a friend, you don’t owe anyone more than that. If you don’t like them back then it ends there.” She chastised.

_Obviously._

“I know that, I’m not an idiot! I just… never bothered to figure out whether I did like them. Like _that_ I mean.” He explained, cringing at how stupid it sounded aloud. _“_ How am I so crap at this?”

His mother had nothing to say to that, and he sat back up properly. It was hard enough to have this conversation without trying to parse what her upside-down expressions meant. Of course, seeing was no better; clearly she felt sorry for him right now. The complete opposite of what he’d wanted.

Hadn’t she been the one who wanted a less depressing conversation?

“Well, it can be tricky sometimes…” She finally answered. “Different people like different things anyway right? Not everyone likes, hmm… _Lianas_ or _Olivers_.”

Oh, Arceus, she wasn’t doing this _now_ was she?

Only, of course she was, the implication being more than clear enough.

“ _Mom!_ ” He interrupted, wincing at how shrill it sounded.

“ _What_? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not _ashamed_ of anything! We’re just not having this conversation right now!”

Hadn’t today been traumatic enough without his mother trying to pull ‘the talk’ on him as if he wasn’t nearly twenty-one?

(Granted, he wasn’t exactly acting it right now.)

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, I just want to make sure you know I’m on your side, and that there’s nothing wrong with-” His mother began, so sincerely he couldn’t bear it.

They were clearly on different pages right now.

“For Arceus sake, I get it, please drop it!” He begged.

Would suffocating himself with one of the cushions get him out of this conversation?

“Why is this such a big deal?”

“Because I’m not some sexually confused teenager!”

No, he was just a sexually _repressed_ adult; that was far worse to deal with.

The look she was levelling him with seemed to say just as much.

“Then what’s the harm in telling others whether you’re even compatible?”

“Because, in my book, getting with anyone would just lead to more trouble than it’s worth, regardless of what’s going on in their pants!” He admitted, ignoring his mother telling him not to be so crude about it. 

He was pretty sure his issues made him incompatible with dating by default.

“Wait… If I somehow convince every lady in Galar that I’m only into men, and every bloke the opposite, then….” He trailed off, considering that it genuinely may solve a lot of his problems. “Do you reckon an earring would do it?”

“Not quite what I was getting at.” She replied dryly. “I’m team ‘address your feelings like an adult’. You have to be proud of who you are!” 

“It’s not like that!” He tried to explain. “I’m not scared of labels. I don’t even think I’m _scared_ of dating; it just doesn’t feel… _sustainable_.”

It sounded utterly stupid the second it came out of his mouth. 

“Sustainable? That’s what you’re going for?”

“It’s just weird!” He explained. “Like, not to sound vain, but I suppose I get it; someone deciding I’m exciting if they only ever see me when I’m battling… But that’s not me most the time. The thought that someone would still want to be around me when I’m, I dunno, having a quiet evening like tonight, or doing something dumb and moping like today… it just doesn’t make sense!” 

“No… I suppose it doesn’t.” His mother agreed. “Choosing to spend the rest of my life with the little ones’ dad is the most bizarre decision I ever made… but it felt right, and even after everything it still feels like it was the right thing to do, even if it ended up only being the rest of _his_ life in the end.”

He couldn’t imagine making that choice after being burned the first time like she was… only to be chilled to the bone the second time.

Who in the world would chose to love if they knew how it would end? Because it would always end up with someone getting hurt and ending up alone in one way another.

It hardly seemed worth the investment, though he wasn’t about to throw that in her face; she knew the cost better than anyone.

“You look entirely too worried over this.”

“I just… If I manage to hurt to people who liked me without even realising, then how could I ever be in a real relationship? There’s no way it could last… I’d mess it up eventually.” He admitted.

“If you applied that attitude to everything else in your life, how would you even get up in the morning?” She challenged. “Don’t be so defeatist about it.”

“But it’s a much bigger decision than what to have for breakfast, or what to wear each day.”

“Well, the lucky part is you can leave at any time if it isn’t working out. I promise you, I’ve never had long-term prospects weren’t running through my mind during a first date.” She said; a small, almost fond smile on her face.

“New love is supposed to be _exciting_ , you’re young Gord, no one expects you to go straight into the nitty gritty.”

Again, that seemed easier said than done. How could you go into something completely blind?

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He cautioned. “I proper pissed them off, remember? Love isn’t exactly on the cards for me now.”

“Sweetheart… This isn’t it for you forever, you know. Even if they weren’t right for you, you don’t need to worry that no one will be. The amount of young ladies who dropped out of Circhester after you left… Well, let’s just say that a lack of options is gonna be your last problem. Trust me.”

“Mom! Don’t say stuff like that.” He whined, not caring how petulant it sounded.

“Alright, I never want to be one of those moms who’s pressuring you to make grandkids.” She joked. “But you realise you shouldn’t be afraid of… going after something if it’s what you want, right?”

“Yes.” He replied exasperatedly. “And right now all I want is to focus on my team, my career.”

His mother just sighed.

“I was pretty much the same at your age. But just make sure you’re paying attention that the people around you aren’t misunderstanding. You don’t want a repeat of… _this_ , even if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Oh right, you an expert in that then?” He challenged, knowing she was just as bloody hopeless as him, despite being previously married.

“Nope.” She admitted. “But that’s probably why I have the reputation for being an ice-cold bitch.”

“ _Mom_!”

“What? I’m saying don’t be like me. Learn from my mistakes.” She joked.

Though, through the laughter, he could sense it once more… that strange sort of sincere resignation. Finally, she truly seemed to accept that he wanted to disentangle his legacy for her own.

But wanting him to be better?

That was a tall order.

A sort of calm fell over them after that though, the… excitement of the day finally dying down; the conversation drifting into a gentle monotony. That was alright, boring was alright sometimes.

They had a couple of hot chocolates before bed, more for a little sense of ritual if nothing else, folding away the quilts almost reverently. It was strange how the past had so much power over them both after all this time.

It made him wonder how much power the future had over them too.

Eventually they agreed it was time to try and get some sleep though, even if he struggled to imagine he’d be successful.

His reflection looked drawn as he watched himself brush his teeth, but after the shower the blood and grime was gone, so his lip didn’t look all that bad… just a little swollen (which was more than could be said for his arm, but nevermind). The way the cut interrupted his features made him feel a little like he was looking at a stranger though, the familiar landscape of his face suddenly disturbed.

The stranger looking back at him was tired; in more ways than one.

Hopefully sleeping would solve at least some of that.

Entering his bedroom once more he realised his mother hadn’t messed with his team while he’d been… recovering from his episode earlier. He appreciated it. This time he moved them calmly, though he still couldn’t stop the stab of pain as he held Coalossal.

Gordie forced himself to push it back, it was alright now, he was gonna make sure Coalossal was alright. Still, as he shut them in for the night, his eyes felt like they were stinging, even if no tears fell.

Apparently, he’d left his phone in his room too though, the blinking light a welcome distraction from everything else.

Though when he opened his notifications he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Wendy: Hope you’re alright now?

She hadn’t text anything after that in the hours after, though he didn’t imagine it was her style to message anyone more than once in a row… it just didn’t seem very Wendy.

Still, he couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. It was nice to think someone else at the gym cared if he was okay, even after working hours. He hoped she didn’t mind his belated reassurance that he was fine, just had left his phone in the other room.

There wasn’t another notification, but again he wasn’t surprised, she seemed the type to play it cool even when she was looking out for you.

Arceus knew he could use someone who kept their cool in his life right now.

It was late, he really ought to try and get some sleep, if he was expected to go back to business as normal tomorrow.

His brain wouldn’t bloody quiet down, though he was surprised to find he was focusing more on the last part of the evening than anything else.

Maybe the issue with Coalossal was easier to deal with right now because it hadn’t been him who had caused it. Or perhaps it was because he saw nothing but what was to come with the Pokémon.

When it came to the… romantic problems he had no future, he knew, and not just because Kiera wanted him to stay away from them. Blowing something up before he’d even realised it existed was a record, even for him.

It was probably good he’d ruined it before anything could have happened, not that anything _would_ have happened, considering he’d been too close to them professionally to even remotely reciprocate their feelings.

Thank Arceus he hadn’t figured it out at the time though, he wasn’t exactly… _equipped_ to figure that mess out and deal with it.

But now they wouldn’t feel that way anymore, it was a little easier to look back on it, to consider how he felt about it.

Embarrassed, obviously.

Outright _mortified_ even.

Only, incomprehensibly, that wasn’t all he felt.

It must have been the other trainers’ faults… or his bloody meddling mother.

Because… well, no one had acted like it was hilarious that they’d liked him in the first place, like he’d maybe been scared they would. They didn’t think it was funny, or disgusting, or some sort of indication that the pair were really due an eye exam (or a psych exam). Obviously no one thought that, people never really reacted like that in real life, did they?

Intellectually he understood that.

But something about how… _normal_ it seemed to others made it feel bearable; like it was natural that two kind, talented, and definitely not _unattractive_ people had seen Gordie and decided they liked him like that.

Even Wendy hadn’t cracked a joke. Well, that wasn’t _wholly_ true, she’d made fun of him all day, but she’d been directing it at his responses, his failure to cope, not finding the premise itself as bizarre as it clearly was.

What bloody parallel universe had he fallen into?

His thoughts were driving him insane, the throbbing pain in his arm leaving him unable to avoid recalling the day’s events, and ponder what they really meant.

He found his entire self aflame, in a sense.

He began rummaging blindly through the drawer in his bedside table, hoping he’d be able to find what he was hoping for by touch alone. No bloody way was he turning the lights on, he wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours if he did. 

Thankfully, the ice stone was noticeably chilly as his fingers brushed a hard edge, and he clutched it closer, as if the cold of it could keep the ache of his burn at bay, or wipe away the fiery hurt of the day’s events.

(Or settle the strange warmth under his skin.)

Definitely not what he’d nabbed it for, but what was wrong with creative solutions every now and again?

He’d still not brought up Vulpix to his mother anyway, unsure if there was a way to do so without sounding like a conspiracy theorist or something. It wasn’t even as if he thought she was coddling it too much anymore, it was just a worry that she might not be interesting in evolving and training Vulpix like her other Pokémon because she’d never managed to reclaim her passion for the sport itself, only running Circhester because she was afraid of it being lost if she left.

(It certainly wasn’t the only sign, he mused.)

Maybe he was just trying to delude himself that she felt like that, as if it would suddenly make it okay that he might really try and steal Circhester from under her one day. Especially if she was going to circumvent league etiquette and loan him the bloody thing to make sure Coalossal was alright.

Still, there was no point keeping himself awake ruminating on that when it might not even happen. Not to mention it was somehow even more conflicting that his previous train of thought had been.

He really was his own worst enemy wasn’t he?

None of this was bad! His transition back into the league had been smoother than he could have possibly expected given his history, and now two of the gym leaders in the majors already felt they had to be cautious of his team (even if it wasn’t really _his_ team, not in that sense anyway).

Without even considering that a bunch of people who weren’t his mother (and therefore literally _required_ to) apparently seemed to think he was… appealing enough that his image wouldn’t harm his reputation as a trainer. 

It just didn’t _feel_ like it could be that easy.

Sure, it must have seemed straightforward to Wendy, who clearly thought he was an idiot for not feeling the same way; but this, _all_ of this, was at odds with the universal truths in his life until recently.

Even if he was apparently ‘ _in vogue’_ right now, how long could it possibly last?

He’d never managed to be the trainer his mother or her gym had wanted him to be, and he was already creating fissures with Mac. Even when training was going perfectly, and no one could beat him in a battle, there had always been countless pot shots they could take at him as a person.

That was how it had always been.

What had bloody changed?

He supposed he should just enjoy this while it lasted, knowing that one day the paradigm would shift back, as it inevitably always did.

It wasn’t really about the training right now anyway, was it?

Even though he knew it wouldn’t be forever, and that he’d already poisoned how Liana and Oliver had felt, he couldn’t stop the little warm buzz in his chest.

He’d always thought that been watched, being _seen_ , by others was like the crawling of insects for each pair of eyes… This was different somehow, gentle to the point of being almost imperceptible, more like the fluttering of a Butterfree’s wings.

Maybe it was something in him that was fluttering rather, an unsteadiness in his pulse, in his breath.

Arceus, he was a wreck, wasn’t he? 

Sleep didn’t come easy, but it certainly wasn’t the worst night he’d had since coming home.

Thinking of Wendy's text, and triplet's ridiculous signatures on his arm, and his mother's support too, he thought he understood why.

For once, it was nice that he wasn't alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the last chapter burned me out a little bit. So while I'm not entirely happy with this one, I'm publishing it so we can move on in the story.


	30. Regroup

There was something to be said about pure, unadulterated awkwardness.

Mostly that it was, in high concentrations anyway, more potent and just… _crappier_ than any feelings like anger and sadness, as far as Gordie was concerned. There definitely wasn’t anything worse than stewing in embarrassing tension that no one seemed willing to break.

At least he wasn’t the only one though, he thought, noting with a healthy dose of schadenfreude that Mac seemed to be feeling the exact same way. He didn’t look in any mood to talk about it though, which for once Gordie could relate to.

Still, what did he have to be so awkward about? It was Gordie everyone was staring at, like he was the entire bloody circus come to town all at once.

Not that he’d made things any better for himself turning up looking like _this_.

He’d overslept, and if that wasn’t proof that he’d been truly otherworldly levels of exhausted last night (even after his nap), then nothing was, because he just didn’t do that. Like, _ever_. Of course, oversleeping combined with suddenly having to try and do his entire morning routine one-handedly because his other arm had gone on strike in protest to its injuries this morning was bound to have ended badly.

Some battles have to be surrendered before they’re begun though, which is why Gordie hadn’t even tried to do his hair this morning, deciding that unstyled was better than whatever blunder of modern art would have resulted. Judging from how even his uniform, which was hardly complex to get on, seemed sort of skew-whiff, he was vindicated that he’d made the right decision, even if he’d already gotten his fair share of gormless stares for just turning up au naturel.

That was the problem in trying to incorporate something that took a bit of effort as part of ‘your image’; people immediately noticed when it was missing, and they knew something was off with you from the outset.

Whatever, he was probably just being overly paranoid.

Not about the staring though. He’d come prepared for that, knowing that there was no way the class hadn’t heard at least _something_ about what had happened yesterday, even if they hadn’t gotten the full story (in fact, letting them fill in the details for themselves was bound to make it worse).

And now he was expected to teach all those staring eyes. 

Wonderful.

It could be worse, he supposed. At least none of them had seen him cry, in which case he probably would have just refused to come back on principle.

Besides, he had a bit of a point to prove now. If this gym was thrashed in its first matches then his… _outburst_ about training the entire team in Mac’s stead probably wouldn’t age very well. Plus, (setting his own grievances aside for a moment) an early win would do wonders for the team’s confidence, especially against one of their biggest threats this season.

This really wasn’t the time to loosen up on training because of personal problems. They had to nail this.

Even if Gordie wouldn’t get to be a part of it.

“Alright.” He announced, trying for his most authoritative tone to shake off the weird looks. “I’ve allocated pairs this morning’s session.”

Turned out that years of experience working at (and sometimes running) Circhester during his episodes of seething resentment towards everyone and everything the place represented was good practice for this sort of thing.

Too good, almost.

It was easy to forget that years had gone by since then sometimes. Everything had changed, but occasionally he felt like some part of himself was anchored there, primed to be dragged back at any second.

It could explain why he’d never quite gotten the knack for not making his training harsher the worse he personally felt… though maybe that was the entire secret to Circhester’s success, he mused darkly, knowing from experience that his mother was the same when it came to that sort of thing.

(In which case, he alone was probably a huge part of her gym’s prosperity over the years.)

At least they never got sloppy about it. That was the important thing, he supposed. 

So today his torture was to focus on matching the more skilled trainers in his club consistently at a type disadvantage. If it gave him an excuse to torment half of Mac’s team with Barbaracle’s water type moves… well, he doubted that had anything to do with it. 

Either way, it wasn’t enough.

Something had to radically shift.

The team were too comfortable with how one another fought, and nestled underneath individual flourish, Gordie had long suspected that their strategies were all too similar to actually pose threats to each other. Matches were just coming down to a combination of brute force, and dumb luck.

Obviously he knew the only true remedy for that was experience. They needed to face strong, strategic trainers from other gyms _. Lots_ of them.

Understanding that was little help though, considering he wanted them to actually _win_ their first rounds.

It was a shame they didn’t have the sheer influence that Circhester did; challengers with loads of different types of Pokémon would come there even in the off-season, just for the chance to face his mother. That sort of training had always been invaluable to her team. Arceus, he’d even known her to _invite_ other teams for friendly matches before ranked ones if she thought her trainers would benefit from it.

Right now he didn’t have that luxury. 

He also didn’t have to right to go around moaning about it; this is exactly what he’d wanted. The hypocrisy of wanting to build his own legacy like she had hers, while simultaneously wanting to reap the benefits of being an established gym didn’t escape him. 

It was in what he could only consider a stroke of genius that he came up with an idea he figured might be a good compromise. One favour he could ask his mother for, without hopefully crossing the line.

If nothing else it would be funny for him at least.

His mother seemed to be taking some time to warm up to the idea that evening however.

“This is just making you look like a stalker.”

“It’s for educational purposes!”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what the other voyeurs say too.” She joked.

Granted, it did look a little dubious. By this point he’d probably spent the better part of three hours obsessively watching compilations of the major league water type leader fighting, and after a brief but ill-fated flick to the comments in a fit of distraction, he was well aware that most people had clicked the videos with something very different in mind to reverse-engineering her technique. 

Seriously, how many times could people make the exact same joke about how far she raised her leg before throwing a pokeball and still think they were being original?

Just went to prove it was truly never worth checking the comments; he could still shudder from just remembering the few times he’d ended up in posts online.

Regardless, Nessa’s style was… interesting. Definitely more assertive than most water trainers he’d faced, who were more prone to letting the other side decide the pace of a battle and trying to win through flexible battle tactics. Of course, that would put the water gym in the minors at a huge disadvantage if they were ever in a position to face her, he reckoned.

Maybe they already had, he wasn’t exactly as up to date on his league knowledge as he used to be.

It was honestly a little funny actually. He’d spent ages worrying whether a rock-type gym would be able to succeed in the first place, considering they weren’t exactly the most popular of Pokémon, but here was one of the most popular trainers in the region constructing her entire team from the least glamourous water types she could find.

At least they were tough though, at the end of the day that was what should really matter… not to mention it meant her style was definitely something he could try and work with tomorrow.

Which meant all he needed to do now was gather an entire team of water type Pokémon who would obediently listen to him by tomorrow.

For once, he wasn’t above using his mother’s name as leverage.

Technically it wasn’t about _Circhester_ anyway; it was more that literally every marine or river search and rescue centre within 50 miles of here knew her, she was by far one of their most useful donors after all. Arceus knew exactly how many of her Laprases had ended up working for them over the years.

It meant that there was a mutual trust there, and he was sure that if he was persuasive enough, at least one of them wouldn’t mind letting him look after some of their Pokémon with… _excess energy_ that could be burnt off through training for a few days.

Hopefully.

“Well Gord, I rang that Centre in Circhester Bay, you know the one?”

“The one next to the world’s most inappropriately located tourist café?”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She replied, smirking even if she was pretending not to. “They actually seem pretty up for it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I suppose with the sort of training they’re doing maybe they struggle a little with some of the… livelier Pokémon.”

“Is that your way of saying none of them are gonna listen to me?” He joked.

To be honest, he wasn’t overly concerned. He’d done a little bit of work training other types of Pokémon while he’d been travelling (it was honestly amazing that people would pay you for something like that), and if these ones were disciplined enough to be part of a program like search and rescue in the first place, then there was no way they could be as bad as some of the ones he’d met.

Didn’t stop them being incredibly spirited, when he actually went to pick them up. He and his mom had decided to try and dart down that night, considering they were expected and it would give Gordie time to actually get to know his impromptu team just a little bit.

An unforeseen advantage of not having to prepare his own team for the upcoming matches, he supposed. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t sting a little, but it would be fun to try and thrash his teammates, especially because it genuinely might be a useful learning experience for everyone, him included.

He was already learning in fact.

For instance, who would have thought that he’d be such a big fan of Corsolas?

The centre had a bunch of the weird pink ones from other regions, apparently useful enough to acquire special import licenses for rescue services.

He’d always thought Corsola were a little creepy, not unlikely to curse you if you accidentally caught one while swimming. They were inherently melancholy by nature too, in some ways the echo of extinction itself. Something people in Galar had broken and couldn’t fix.

So yeah, he’d always tended to avoid them.

But this one was… _cute_ , and reminded him a lot of some of the other Pokémon in his team. Plus it was a water/rock dual type like Barbaracle, which could only be a bonus.

He explained as much to his mother, who seemed very amused at the prospect of how a Corsola would look if he were to fight with one for real, alongside his other Pokémon. Though he would argue that if the water leader could fight with big, scaly ones, then what would be the harm in him having a sweet-looking one?

Well, other than the fact that pink Corsola weren’t league legal.

Still, she definitely had a lot more common ground with the Pokémon he was used to training than the Octillery that had been left in his care, which was a bit odd and very… grabby. It seemed inquisitive though, rather than malicious. 

The final one he’d been given was a Lapras, which while definitely _familiar_ (was it crazy that he could see the resemblance to his mothers’ and could tell it was one of the boys she’d donated?) felt wrong to train with somehow.

Switching from a fire/rock to a water/ice dual type felt like a betrayal of Coalossal, even if right now they weren’t training for his own good.

Not that it was Lapras’ fault anyway. Gordie could just tell that whatever his mom’s first Lapras had meant to her, Coalossal meant to him. It was impossible to separate them fully.

Both had always made him feel tiny… not even in the obvious way that being around an 8-foot plus Pokémon was bound to. (Besides, this one clearly wasn’t even fully grown yet.) When he’d been young Laprases had seemed impossibly larger than life, and he still clearly remembered the first time he’d seen one gigantamaxed for the first time. He doubted he’d ever forget that sense of awe.

Seeing Coalossal for the first time, back in Circhester, had felt like that in hindsight. Now he could remember it with all the panic of the time washed away, he could tell it had been the same.

Of course, it always ended the same way too, didn’t it? He’d never been able to connect with the Pokémon from his mother’s gym like she could, and now he couldn’t even help his own!

Lapras must have caught on to whatever bad vibe Gordie was projecting, almost crawling on him like he wasn’t twice his bloody size.

“Gord… Are you alright?” His mother asked, apparently having popped onto the patio at some point to watch him and Lapras.

He imagined it looked like his training outcomes were… questionable.

“Of course! I still remember how to work with these guys, I mean, I’d be worried if I didn’t considering how many you’ve had over the years.” He laughed, gently wrestling the Pokémon off of him so he could look at her while they spoke.

Even if that would probably be what gave him away.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What?” He asked.

“I’m talking about everything yesterday. Are you sure it’s… _healthy_ to throw yourself straight into something like this? Not even twenty-four hours ago you were freezing and burning yourself at the same time! Now you’re one step away from switching teams again.”

“Oh come on.” He laughed. “I’m rock-types for life, sorry to say. Besides, I was hardly freezing yesterday. The doctor didn’t say there was any cold damage.”

“She didn’t know she was supposed to be looking for any.” His mother interrupted.

“There wasn’t any!” He rebutted. “And she said my arm will be fine.”

“Okay, but we both know that your arm wasn’t the only thing that got a bit… scrambled yesterday.”

He’d like to think his head wasn’t ‘scrambled’, despite what his mother seemed to think. It was perfectly natural to be annoyed at Mac, to be annoyed for Coalossal who kept being messed around by people. _(He just hoped he wasn’t one of them.)_

It was natural to want to move passed it, wasn’t it?

“Please, talk to me.” She pleaded softly. “You know exactly what’s gonna happen if you bottle this up.”

He’d erupt. Like usual.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I feel better than I did yesterday. But everything is still a bit crap isn’t it? Let’s be honest. A bunch of idiots are running around with portable power spots. My competitive hopes are off to a rough start considering I _can’t_ compete, and Coalossal is… well, you know. I’m not trying to bottle it up! I just… I want to channel it into something positive instead, and see if I can help everyone else in my team.”

And _maybe_ show them all the face of suffering by assaulting them all with water Pokémon.

(He didn’t really want to crush their spirits. He wanted them to _win_ this week, even Mac. He wanted to help with that whatever way he could.)

“Why don’t you take some time off for yourself if you can’t compete this round then? They can get by without you, and you’d probably be better off for it in time for the next round.” She suggested.

The thing was, he wasn’t sure how true that was about them being fine otherwise. As things stood… he couldn’t honestly imagine them winning.

“They are on a really tough deadline right now… and I.. I think they might lose.” He admitted. “I know that there’s nothing I can do about the portable power spots, and whatever I do with Coalossal isn’t gonna happen overnight either. But I really _, really_ want to see this team do well… Even if I’m not the leader, and even if I can’t join in this time.”

She was watching him a little oddly at that, almost sadly, and he wondered if he’d ever said anything like that about Circhester growing up. If he had, he certainly couldn’t remember it. The words or the feelings.

No, this felt brand new.

“Gordie?” She finally said.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t torture yourself. You know the team you’re going up against have almost made promotion a couple times, right? To even get a draw against them would be impressive, especially when they’ve got a type advantage over you.”

It was nice that she wanted to keep his expectations in check.

But if he wanted any future with his team, someone had to believe they could do it. Why go into it aiming for anything but a win each time?

“Thanks… But impressive is literally the lowest bar we’re aiming for. Consider it more of a ‘bet 100 Poke on us and I’ll make you a millionaire’ kind of season.” He said cockily.

He wasn’t sure their odds were _that_ bad, but the point still stood. 

“Well, that was a quick 180.” His mother replied, clearly unconvinced.

“Because I was explaining what I thought would happen if I took this week _off_ , you’ll be amazed at the difference.” He laughed, before realising that it sounded like an invitation.

“You want me to come watch?” She asked, clearly having gotten that impression too.

“It’s fine!” He quickly corrected, trying for levity. “I’m not competing, and even if I was you’ve seen me compete millions of times, it’s not a big deal.”

No way was she sold by that performance though. It had clearly been him telling her to stay away.

On the one hand he felt terrible for it, but the second Melony was at a minor’s game, it would cease to be about any of the other players… besides, she had a terrible ability of getting in his head when he was trying to battle.

“I understand, sweetheart.” Was all she said.

He couldn’t tell how she’d actually felt about it.

Didn’t stop the guilt though, even though he knew her presence would make things worse for the rest of his team.

A little bit of lingering tension from it weighed over them for the rest of the night, but by the morning she seemed to have resolved herself to be fine with it. Gordie hoped, at least.

He’d already warned Mac that he had an… unconventional training idea lined up for the next few days, but had refused to elaborate, knowing it would be worth it the first time he brought Lapras out.

Plus, he’d been right, it was very, _very_ funny for him once he did, though he was pleasantly surprised at just how much his team were rising to the challenge. It was a shame really that he didn’t have any connections to hook him up with Pokémon teams for all the other weaknesses of rock.

Oh well, they’d take it one step at a time.

After all, they still had the real first match to go.


	31. A night of firsts

Seriously, curse his bloody mother. Because clearly, she had cursed them in turn.

A draw.

This was gonna end up a bloody _draw_.

It was better than a loss, granted, but they’d started with so much momentum!

All it took was a single instant for the tide to turn though, and Gordie could tell that unfortunately this gym’s leader had just taken it against Mac. Mac who had committed the cardinal sin when it came to fighting a water-type trainer.

Granting her complete control over the pace of the battle.

It made sense that he was on the back foot. He’d been holding his Drednaw in reserve, which honestly Gordie hadn’t thought was a terrible idea; it wasn’t gonna struggle to tank water type moves unlike the rest of his team, so it was worth pulling him out when you needed him most.

Except on the tiny, almost inconceivable unlikely chance that your opponent’s ace was say… a Ludicolo or something, in which case you were doomed the second it got a grass type attack off.

Which wouldn’t have warranted thinking about, apart from the fact that apparently, out of all the possible water types in the region, this lady had chosen a fucking _Ludicolo_.

Gordie was almost tempted to dismiss it as truly rotten luck. _Almost_.

But when he remembered that the biggest obstacle to these guys entering the majors was the Drednaw the water leader Nessa fought with, it suddenly felt far more deliberate. (He doubted it would work on her though, generally it was the weaker trainer who relied on type advantage alone.)

It was an infuriatingly simple possibility he’d missed though, made worse by the fact he’d spent hours studying how Nessa fought with the bloody thing; he’d even given Mac advice based on it! How had he overlooked that his opponents would have far more reason to do the exact same thing?

The match was over before he could contemplate exactly how much of an idiot he truly must have been. Mac had risen to all the challenges Gordie had set him this past week, but in doing so he’d also been as good as led into a trap. 

There were definitely some learning points from it, but even so… it hurt.

Maybe he was just being conceited. By this point the other team wouldn’t manage to secure an outright win either, even with the type advantage, so as former upper enders they’d be coming away feeling far more disappointed.

But… well, it was the bloody minors! He knew he was a bastard for thinking it, but it was still the truth.

Worse, he was fairly confident he’d have been able to win the match that Mac had lost, and maybe that could’ve made all the difference. The other team certainly seemed more lively now that their leader had taken her victory.

He wasn’t gonna rub it in though… something about the way Mac looked at him as he returned to their side of the stands made him believe he’d already been thinking along the same lines. (Or maybe he was just a proper narcissist, always a possibility.)

They just sat in a sullen sort of silence instead. 

Not that it was nearly as vindicating as Gordie had hoped… it just felt a little draining, like all their hard work still hadn’t paid off. That’s how losing always felt to be fair, he just hadn’t battled at an official competitive level for a while. Too long.

He was desperately out of practice at losing with grace, and he’d never been particularly talented at it anyway.

Today hadn’t even been _his_ loss! Not directly anyway.

How would he handle it when it was his turn?

Before he could ruminate on that any further, a pair of arms threw themselves around him, mindful of his burnt arm (not mindful of the fact they were giving him a bloody heart attack though). It was one of the girls from his team, which hopefully meant another win for their side. Some of their trainers were clearly still powering through even if it was too late for either side to claim outright victory.

He tightened his arms around her, shooting her a smile. It had been a bloody good match to be fair; the bits he’d paid attention to anyway. 

She ran over to Mac as quickly as she’d appeared, giving him a brief hug before making her way to an excited huddle of her friends. 

This was probably her first proper league win, Gordie mused.

He felt a little patronising for just how endearing he found that, even if she’d never find out.

It was just… nice. People never hugged him when they’d won a match at Circhester (nor had he hugged anyone else), it had never felt warranted. Maybe it was just a club culture thing, no one would be able to start a practice like that considering he couldn’t in a million years imagine anyone there hugging his mother that way (except maybe Liana).

Yet somehow it had happened to him more times than he could count on a single hand tonight. He suppose a victory at this level meant more to his team than it would have to the Circhester lot.

Of course it all also meant they wanted Gordie to share that experience with them.

He wasn’t even much of a hugger when it came to acquaintances… but he could try. Clearly the part he’d had in their training meant a lot to them. Even if they’d spent the last week resenting him for pushing as hard as he was.

Part of him wondered if they wished Mac had been the one training them instead. Some definitely had, before.

It was a disquieting sensation, being unable to tell quite where he stood with this gym.

There wasn’t any eruption of thunderous celebration at the end, neither team feeling particularly thrilled that they’d be coming away with one measly point after so much work. Logically, it was worse news for their opponents, who had just blown one of their best chances at picking up three points… especially considering that even though they _would_ have an edge over the fire type gym, so would his team.

Maybe that was why he was managing to smile about it by the time they left, despite the dip in everyone’s energy.

He tried to explain before he set off for the train station that even if it hadn’t been a clean victory, tactically it had been a win for their side. Wendy (in a fantastic mood after winning her own match, and the match she’d poached from him) wasn’t letting him leave though, explaining that apparently this gym shared a tradition that he was now expected to be a part of.

Celebratory drinks.

Pretty much everyone was in agreement over it, even Mac, surprisingly.

How unfortunate that the water type gym seemed to have the same tradition. (Seriously, was Circhester the only gym that didn’t or was this one of those differences between the majors and minors?) 

This pub was closest to the stadium they’d used for the face-off, so it made sense they’d both ended up there. It was just a little… tense.

Mac seemed to be talking it over with the leader of the other gym though, a rather stern looking woman now he was getting a closer look, with grey eyes and ash blonde hair that didn’t exactly scream ‘water type trainer’ to him. Was it cruel to think that someone looked like a normal type trainer instead?

He didn’t have much time to worry about that before Mac beckoned him over from across the bar, as if he’d caught onto Gordie’s stray thoughts. Not that he could’ve, the guy had a knack for reading Gordie’s every intention, but he couldn’t read minds.

(Gordie hoped anyway, that thing Opal had said about the psychic leaders making him paranoid whenever he remembered it.)

“We were just talking about you.” Mac informed him.

Well… that was great and didn’t make him feel scrutinised at all. (Not that he didn’t deserve it considering he’d been making comments about their leader to himself, but still.)

“Mac was saying you put his team through the wringer.” The woman in question stage whispered conspiratorially. “It’s a shame you didn’t get to compete tonight, your leader here seems to think you’re _quite_ the secret weapon.”

“Oh, is that right?” He asked, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

“She’s being dramatic. I don’t think you need to be modest though, these last few months he’s really done wonders for us.” Mac explained jovially to his opponent, a weird change in tune from his loss earlier. “I swear he’s got a bright future ahead of him, we both better watch out.”

_Both of them?_

His tone was light, but the message was clear. This fight had clearly knocked his confidence, a fair bit if he was already hinting at a limited future as leader. Hadn’t Wendy basically said Mac had never seen himself going further than this anyway?

It would be a good opportunity for Gordie if he was just willing to pack it up.

But, for some reason, it was bloody infuriating in much greater measure.

It had been _one_ fight, at type disadvantage no less. That didn’t prove that Mac couldn’t do this. Gordie wasn’t about to let him quit after one setback, not when he clearly cared so much about his team, was still trying to put on a brave face for them.

“Hopefully not for a while yet.” He answered mildly, hoping it made his intentions clear.

“Well, either way, your team have certainly made an early splash.” Their leader crooned; and great, a _water_ pun. “Who knows, maybe you’ll make it to the play-offs and we’ll get to see you in action sooner rather than later.”

Ah, how subtle that her team’s place battling for promotion was already assured in that scenario. Still, he couldn’t blame her, it was nice that she had unshakable confidence in her team. He could really do with a bit more of that.

Besides, her version of things gave them _months_ to overcome them. Properly this time.

“Hopefully. I think a rock gym in the majors has been long overdue, right Gordie?” Mac goaded, which was alarmingly uncharacteristic for him.

In fact, it was _almost_ as weird as him slinging an arm around Gordie’s shoulder and pulling him into a loose hug (apparently the unexpected hug portion of the evening _wasn’t_ over yet).

She just chuckled, probably not seeing it as too much of a threat, even if she’d been unable to win tonight. His team weren’t the only ones who’d pick up some wisdom from this going forward he supposed. She soon left though, probably trying to discourage rowdiness from any of her trainers, who in true water type spirit, had gotten the drinks flowing impressively quickly.

Gordie figured it was worth addressing the Copperajah in the room before they went any further. 

“Am I no longer barred from competing then?” He asked, forcing himself not to sound sarcastic as he did so.

He wasn’t even really angry about it anymore, which surprised even him. Part of him had thought that having to watch everyone else fight and being unable to join in would be torture… but it hadn’t been. On some level it had been good to be able to analyse the other trainers without having to worry about his own battle. Not the sort of trainer he’d want to be going forward, but a useful experience.

It wasn’t even as if Mac had been trying to save all the glory for himself. If anything that was Wendy, who had clearly relished every minute of both her fights, though in the circumstances he’d have probably done the same thing.

“I think that’s fair.” Mac replied. “A fight for a fight… Besides, I appreciate that you put so much time into training when you weren’t getting the chance to compete yourself. I don’t reckon we’ll manage to put together a team for every type though.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, I think water was doable because it was… _ice adjacent_.”

And wasn’t _that_ a painful thought?

Mac snorted.

“Well, your secret’s safe with me. Nothing wrong with doing it the old-fashioned way anyway… Come on, let’s grab a drink. My treat for this past week.”

Gordie got the impression that Mac just wanted a change of scenery, something clearly weighing on his mind. Still, no point in turning down a free drink.

Though when Mac actually asked him what he wanted after ordering himself a beer, he suddenly felt a little silly at the prospect of getting a soft drink. Yeah, yeah, he’d sat through at least some of those school assemblies on peer pressure, but he reckoned he’d missed enough due to training that he was still susceptible. (Or, just possibly, they didn’t fucking work and he was an idiot regardless.)

“I’ll have the same.” He answered instead. 

Once the drinks arrived, he forced himself not to pull any faces at the sharp bitterness of his as he began taking slow sips. Though, he probably wasn’t doing much to fool Mac, considering the almost imperceptible smile he seemed to be earning for his efforts.

Though Mac quickly dropped it as he began speaking once more.

“How’s your Coalossal been?”

Ah. Of course.

“That’s… a work in progress.” He admitted, remembering that he was gonna have to sort him out sooner rather than later. “I’ll figure something out.”

That would have to be his main focus from here on in.

“I’m sure you will.” Mac said, in a tone that suggesting an incoming ‘but’. “I admire how much you care about the Pokémon you work with Gordie, but I won’t let that be at the expense of the _people_ you work with. I’m gonna need _proof_ before he return to our roster.”

There was the ‘but’ then.

But Arceus, he already knew that! Did he really think Gordie would let Coalossal compete if it would cause him distress? Or end up with someone getting hurt?

How he was supposed to prove it was just another headache he really didn’t need to think about tonight.

“I know. I will. And speaking of people we work with, I’m gonna go congratulate Wendy.” He said, cutting off the conversation before it could go any further. Not that it was a lie, exactly.

Mac didn’t try to stop him as he left, though Wendy was already sat with someone by the time he found her, and he considered leaving her in peace in case she wanted some… _alone time_ with the guy. Or at least, he did until she yelled him over, gesturing enthusiastically for him to sit with them.

“Gord, this is the guy you were down to fight.” She explained.

Ah yes, so it was. He recognised him from earlier this close.

Immediately Gordie didn’t like him, something about his face just setting him on edge. He looked like he thought he was too cool to care about anything, refusing to drop the easy smile he was putting on even when he’d lost. Though, to his credit, he looked the part of a water trainer way more than his leader, with sun dark skin and tousled hair like some cheesy TV lifeguard. 

“Jacques.” He introduced himself.

Sort of redundantly, considering Gordie had heard his name being announced during the match. The match he was supposed to have been taking part in no bloody less.

“Gordie.” 

He could feel the man’s gaze shamelessly sweeping over him, and Gordie wondered what exactly he expected to find.

“Your friend Wendy was telling me that you and I were almost gonna fight tonight… It’s a shame that didn’t pan out.” He said, silkily.

A taunt then.

With Wendy here he figured it was worth putting on a brave face so Jacques wouldn’t be able to tell just how easy it was to get under his skin.

“Really? Didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to lose twice.” He replied, smiling pleasantly. 

There was a palpable beat of silence then, his more openly… confrontational comment sitting in the air between them. 

The guy just laughed though, loudly and seemingly genuine enough. It was irritating that he didn’t seem to care about the outcome of his match at all. People like him were _beyond_ inscrutable. Why did they even compete? 

He’d figured his would-be opponent was from Kalos or something earlier given his name, and hearing his accent properly he was pretty sure he’d been right.

Gordie wondered if he’d moved specifically to try and enter professional Pokémon training in Galar. When he’d been travelling all it had taken was another trainer hearing his accent for half of them to tell him they’d considered trying their luck competing here. He supposed the money was good, and there was a chance for international recognition greater than you’d get in any other region.

Maybe he was reading too far into a guy just living his life though, if his lack of concern over his losses was anything to go by.

Either way, it was almost a shame that Gordie was gonna do everything in his power to stop this guy’s team entering the majors this season. (Although it was exactly what water type trainers deserved for crimes against rock types.)

“Gordie you don’t need to be so salty!” Wendy said, and Arceus, had she started on the drinks early? “Sorry about him, he’s nicer usually, it’s just a little past his bedtime.”

“It’s fine!” Jacques said. “Nothing wrong with some pre-match posturing, even if he’s skipping the match part… and the pre part.”

Great, a comedian.

“Look, you started it.” Gordie began to accuse.

“As funny as it to watch… whatever this is.” Wendy interrupted. “Just grab a drink and celebrate the only person who actually _has_ won a fight tonight. Me.”

She practically hauled Gordie with her to the bar, quietly chastising him for being rude before they realised their new acquaintance had joined them, gesturing to his own empty drink. 

“I’ll just grab a lemonade or something.” He said.

Because sure, maybe he wanted to prove his manliness just a little bit to Mac, but he had nothing to prove to Wendy (or their tagalong).

“Lemonade? Come on Gordie, it’s a celebration, not a funeral!”

“I just… don’t want to drink anything else here.”

Wendy watched him flatly.

“I can’t tell if you’re embarrassed because you’re the kind of guy who drinks the fruitiest cocktails known to man, or just like, a pretentious whiskey drinker.” She laughed. “It could be either with you to be honest.”

Did he give off pretentious whiskey connoisseur vibes? The other one he could begrudgingly accept, given that Wendy had notice that he tended towards hot drinks with more sugar than water.

But he wasn’t pretentious!

“It’s neither! I’ve never even tried whiskey.” 

“You’ve never had whiskey?” She asked, suddenly aghast despite her earlier comments.

“Gonna be honest with you, I’m pretty sure I’ve never had anything but beer, wine, and champagne. Alcohol just doesn’t do it for me.” He admitted.

“Okay but how can you say that if you’ve never tried spirits?” Jacques asked, and honestly the sooner he could separate this guy and Wendy the better, because they both seemed to be hardwired to make fun of him. “Plus, not all wine is created equal. Not to sound like a snob about it, but you realise that you basically just drink swill in Galar, right?”

“You definitely sound like a snob right now.” Gordie rebutted, though the other man didn’t look at all guilty at the accusation.

“Ah, sometimes it’s justified.”

“He’s right that it’s worth broadening your palate Gord, how you gonna know you don’t like something if you never try?” Wendy interjected.

“You just want me to get drunk and embarrass myself.”

“I mean, you do that sober.” She laughed. “This is just cultural education, but I’m not gonna pressure you if you don’t wanna.”

“We could make a contest of it.” Jacques added. “Make up for missing our match earlier.”

They were bloody goading him, weren’t they?

Bloody stupid considering this guy was a twig, he was even shorter than Gordie too he could tell standing this close, so there was no way he’d be able to hold his booze. His eyes were already looking a little glassy (and man those fuckers were blue, not blue like Gordie’s eyes… but like _seafoam_ or some equally watery shit _)._

Personally, he certainly didn’t feel like the beer he’d had with Mac was touching him so far. He couldn’t do that much harm by playing a little, could he? If he was getting too drunk, he’d tap out. Easy as.

It wasn’t.

It really wasn’t.

But, he was pretty sure he won in the end considering Jacques had covered them both in Tequila and had to be collected by a friend. His gym leader did _not_ look pleased, and he’d been right about her being a stern looking lady, even if the other bit had been a bit mean.

Thank Arceus Mac had gone home early to his kids. Gordie would not to see him get angry because he thought Gordie had gotten ‘ _drunk_ ’. Because he hadn’t, he’d told Wendy he wasn’t gonna, and he’d tricked Jacques into ordering them… a _very_ lot of chips, remembering that carbs were meant to absorb alcohol.

So he was fine! He was great in fact, making a bunch of friends with water trainers… even if water trainers were a bit weird, and also probably wouldn’t want to be friends with the guy who stopped their gym winning once they sobered up.

Maybe they would though? They seemed like a laugh. Way better than Circhester, who must be like… the losers of gyms or something.

He’d been too harsh on Jacques earlier, the guy was alright. Pretty charming and witty for a guy who was clearly shit-faced. Much better than his friend who had come over mid-contest to tell Gordie that he ‘looked like someone’ but that ‘he couldn’t figure out who’ anyway. Thankfully none of them had been sober enough to figure out the link between his Circhestern accent and striking resemblance to his mother. Would’ve brought down the mood very quickly.

In fact, it had regardless, because he’d been reminded that he’d told her not to come. But he wasn’t the jerk there! She’d take attention away from the competitors, and more to the point, he hadn’t even been one of them! Besides, he’d been to plenty of official matches before without her, why the sudden change of heart? Maybe she was just messing with him.

Moms were confusing! And they told you that you were gonna draw, and then you did draw! So they were mean too.

Thankfully, Wendy had been able to drag him out of that funk by introducing him to a weird cocktail called a ‘Tapu CoCo’, and he’d been very happy that he was able to explain the Alolan pun to her. The name was accurate too, because the drink was a sweet coconut base with a ‘shock’ of citrus. Oh and rum, he forgot the rum part. Cocktails were good at hiding the alcohol taste.

For some reason Wendy was being the buzzkill now though, not wanting him to stay without her.

“Gordie, I don’t trust you to get home alone.” She said, as if him trying a bunch of drinks hadn’t been her idea in the first place. “What’s your address? I’ll get a map up.”

“What if you’re a stalker?”

“I’m not a stalker Gordie, I literally couldn’t care less where you live and I promise I will never visit while you’re sober.”

He wasn’t drunk though. He was buzzed.

“Sounds like what a stalker would say… waiting until I’m under the influence to come kill me.” He pointed out.

“Hmm, can’t lie, right now I’m tempted.” She joked (he hoped). “I’m sure I’ll power through though, even if you’re _really_ annoying on the way back.”

“…Okay.”

“But if you throw up on me, all bets are off, alright?” She warned.

That was fair, even if there was no way he actually needed a babysitter.

He didn’t want to throw up again anyway after the catastrophe earlier, his hair was still wet from the sinks. Next time he’d tie it up fully to come out, he’d decided. Leaving half of it down had been dumb.

Dumber than not guessing their leader would have a grass type because she wants the other water lady. Wanted other water lady’s job rather. 

Urgh, he should just focus on getting home.

The journey felt longer somehow, in the dead of night, though the lights were on when he got home though, for some reason.

“You cursed us lady! It was only a draw!” He accused sharply at the figure in the hallway.

“Shhhh!” His mother hissed, shortly followed by. “Are you _drunk_?”

Which proved that Wendy had been wrong! Because he’d gotten home alive just fine thank you very much, and he was pretty sure she hadn’t been with him the whole time. She wasn’t here now, so she couldn’t have been.

How he’d done it, he wasn’t entirely sure.

But he had! So suck it Wendy. 

But why did his mom think he was drunk straight away too?

“No! I had a couple of drinks, but I’m fine.” He promised. “I smell drunk because I was _surrounded_ by drunk people, they were… not being responsible. Some of them didn’t even win their matches you know!”

Perfect alibi.

“Uh-huh, _sure_.”

Thank Arceus she believed him.

“But if you _somehow_ end up with a hangover tomorrow, I don’t think you can blame them then.”

Did she still think he was drunk? Bugger. 

“I won’t. Because I am ‘buzzed’, I’m not drunk, it’s different.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Wendy told me.” He explained. “She made me drink whiskey too, and her and Jacques laughed, but it was really hot! Like, why is something that is water hot?” 

“Wait, who’s Jacques? Do you mean Mac?” She asked instead of telling him the answer to the whiskey thing. 

She really needed to follow along better.

“No! The wet jerk with the wavy hair, he also lost his fight so he is… _very_ silly for getting drunk. Thinks that he is better than everyone… bet he’s not even really from Kalos.”

He was probably like… from Hammerlocke or something, and just putting on a silly accent. Had it been convincing? Shite, he couldn’t remember.

Maybe he’d had a little too much.

“Yeah, maybe you did.” His mom agreed. 

He’d actually said that then. Whoops.

“Sorry… Shit! The others are asleep, right? I would be a very bad influence if I came in…. _buzzed_ when my team didn’t even win.”

“Not sure the match outcome is the important lesson there Gord.”

He snorted in laughter. Gourd was actually a pretty good pun, did people ever just call her Melon?

How much would he have to pay Kabu to start doing exactly that? Nah, old Opal would do it for free, which made more business sense.

“Right. Sorry, my bad.” He said, snapping back to the point at hand.

“It’s alright, it… happens at your age. Thank Arceus you didn’t decide on tomorrow night instead, at least.”

What?

What was wrong with Saturday? The gym?

“We have dinner at your grandparents’ on Sunday, remember? Long journeys where you are under no circumstances allowed to be hungover and throw up.” She warned.

Had he said it out loud again? Or was it just obvious?

_Or was she a mind reader like Opal said some gym leaders were?_

“Oh. Right.” He answered, carefully.

Dinner.

Dinner with the family.

The fam.

The fammo-ram.

“What’s your sister’s deal?” He asked, figuring he should try to find out _before_ they met.

“ _What_?” His mom answered, and her voice got very, very high as she did.

It was funny when she did that.

“You’re being cagey, and like, you’re always cagey… but you’re being _cagier_.” He explained. “What’s going on there?”

“I’m _‘_ always cagey’, am I?” She asked.

Why wouldn’t she answer any of his questions!

“If you weren’t you would answer the question.” He pointed out, which made her scowl.

But he wasn’t wrong!

“We said we were gonna talk about stuff now, and I told you about Jacques spilling tequila all over me and making me smell drunk, so why won’t you tell me this?”

“You… didn’t tell me that.”

He didn’t?

“Oh, well.. he did. He is a jerk, but I don’t think he was trying to be a jerk then. He was trying to make me try his drink, because I told them I’d never tried a lot of drinks, so they wanted me to, but he was… very drunk.” Gordie snorted. “He fell like, straight forward, and I stunk afterwards, and that is why you should tell me about your sister.”

He skipped the part where Jacques had been trying to get him to drink it from his _mouth_ and had accidentally spat it all over him when he fell, because that was… a little gross.

Wendy had thought it was very funny, but the lady who ran that dude’s gym… hadn’t.

“Tell you what Gord, why don’t we talk about this in the morning? Tonight let’s get you some water, make sure you’re not gonna choke on your own sick, and get some sleep. Alright?”

That sounded alright actually, he was a little tired. But he’d thrown up twice in the bar, (and had Wendy followed him into the men’s toilets or had he invaded the women’s?) and he didn’t think he would again. He hoped he wouldn’t, it had been proper gross. And hot like the whiskey.

Arceus, his bed felt nice tonight though. It felt nicer than usual, had she swapped out the duvet set? It was proper cottony, and he didn’t think it would take him long to get to sleep.

It really hadn’t, he reflected as he woke up, feeling… surprisingly alright. Too alright considering the health and safety nightmare he’d had last night.

“Hungover?” His mother asked smugly as he made his way into the kitchen, though she seemed surprised he was even awake before the others.

“Nope.” He replied, feeling if anything, just a little more glib than usual this morning.

“You’re bluffing.” She challenged.

Which was merciless really, because if he _was_ hungover then she’d have been leaving him to make breakfast in that state… which he’d probably deserve, in all fairness.

“Nope, genuinely sober… and I honestly wish I _was_ hungover, but I’m fine.” He admitted.

He didn’t think his sudden murderous cravings for fluids, carbs and anything that wasn’t booze was a hangover anyway, he was pretty sure it was just his inglorious return to the land of the living. Speaking of carbs… why did their toaster only have two slots for bread? It was honestly a little insulting right now.

They had a bottle of some ‘superfood’ Oran berry smoothie in the fridge though on the bright side, it would hopefully wash the disgusting taste out of his throat if nothing else. If his body still remembered what a vitamin was after last night, that was.

No way could he go to the gym later after last night though, he’d already been on the fence because of his arm – but this would be taking it too far.

“Why do you wish you were hungover then?” His mom deigned to ask.

“Might distract me from the sudden, crystal-clear recollection of all my poor life choices last night.”

Which there were a multitude of, as it turned out.

Drunkenness had two distinct levels, he’d realised. First was the stage where you felt completely uninhibited and at ease with yourself and others…

 _Then_ was the stage when you felt completely uninhibited and at ease with yourself and others, but you also had exclusively terrible ideas and lacked the good sense not to do them.

He could groan just remembering it.

“Do I wanna know?” She asked.

“Well, nothing permanently damaged, except my pride, so I’m gonna go with no.”

He really, really hoped that the water gym they’d faced didn’t end up in the play-offs for promotion this season, even if they apparently had form for doing so. The thought of any of them seeing him again made him want to die. Obviously, seeing his own team was going to be mortifying, but he didn’t have all that much choice in the matter.

If they did ever meet again, it was gonna a let-down for them once they realised that his sober self was, in fact, dour, and not at all charming or funny. At least drunk he’d been able to put on a good show of it, even if he’d perhaps been more… forward with people than he’d ever truly want to be.

(Like trying to drink shit out of their mouth.)

Apparently his drunken self was a complete social saboteur, which was good enough reason to never do that again, even if he hadn’t gotten a hangover.

“Do you remember all of it?” His mother asked.

What?

Oh shit, was she talking about the sister thing? He probably shouldn’t have said that, come to think of it. Or at least he should have been a little more tactful.

“Unfortunately.” He laughed. “I’m very sorry for shouting at you and calling you ‘lady’.”

“I won’t take it personally.” She replied, lightly.

He supposed at one point, he would’ve said much, much worse to her, given the chance.

But neither of them seemed to be willing to bring up the other thing. Was she hoping he’d forgotten?

“And we don’t have to talk about your sister if you don’t want to. I mean, I’m gonna meet her pretty soon anyway.”

Well, someone had to say it!

Not that his mother seemed any happier for him putting it out in the open.

“That’s probably all the more reason for me to warn you in advance.” She finally said.

“So there is actually something going on there?”

“No. There’s not an overt _thing_ , at least if there is I don’t know about it. She just… doesn’t like me very much.”

“Why?”

Like, he was pretty sure he had the monopoly on fighting with his mother, but even he didn’t fundamentally dislike her as a person, they just butted heads all the time.

“I suppose because I left. I imagine my parents were even more overprotective after that… and then I became well known so it probably became a _thing_ for her.”

“Why are you so convinced she’ll hate you though?” He asked. “Weren’t you the one keeping away?”

“Well…. I actually tried reaching out to her a few years back, before my wedding. And, let’s just say she made her feelings very clear then.”

Ah.

“Oh… Shit.” 

“Pretty accurate, yeah.” She agreed.

“But if she’s coming now, then maybe she’s willing to reconcile like you were for your parents?” He suggested.

His mother tried a smile, but still seemed uncomfortable.

“You don’t seemed convinced, what’s up?”

“Well, my father basically said she still hates me, though not in so many words.”

“What did he say?” He asked.

Honestly Gordie was still on the fence about the man, even if he seemed a lot more… laidback than his mom and grandmother (and probably himself, if he were being honest).

“He wasn’t mean about it.” She reassured, apparently sensing where his thoughts had gone. “He just warned me that she had a tendency to be, oh how did he word it? _Competitive_ sometimes, and that I shouldn’t take it personally.”

“That’s code for she has a huge grudge against you then, isn’t it?”

“Even if she does, I can’t blame her! I probably ruined her life. My parents tended towards pushy even before I left.”

“Yeah, that’s their choice though, you can’t control that.”

“I’m sure me becoming gym leader didn’t make her life any easier… You know how people talk.”

“ _Yeah, I do_.”

If anyone could give a masterclass on living in Melony’s shadow, it was bloody him, not her. But he wasn’t ever _that_ much of an ass about it. (He’d only ignored her for two years after all, and the second she’d actually contacted him, he came back.)

“Gordie… I wasn’t trying to say.” She began.

“Don’t worry, I get it.”

“It’s just… when you’re sisters and you’re close in age, there’s always comparisons between you. I’m the one who _didn’t_ have to put up with it.” She admitted.

It was a difficult one, Gordie could recognise. One of those problems with growing up and realising the selfish consequences of choices you made, even if you still felt like it had been the necessary choice at the time.

He certainly didn’t have any answers for her, only reassurances that tomorrow would go alright, for the sheer number of people buffering them if nothing else. He wasn’t sure it made her feel any better though, and eventually the thud of heavy footfalls on the stairs brought an end to that line of conversation.

Gordie changed his mind; he was very, very glad he wasn’t hungover, unable to imagine how the volume of the triplets would feel if he was. Though the house soon fell into relative peace in spite of that (apart from the ridiculous fighting on whatever show the little ones were watching).

Wendy text him a couple of hours later, asking if he was still alive.

This time he didn’t feel at all guilty bragging how he’d been awake for ages and was hangover free.

“Bollocks.” Was all her reply read.

He actually went through the effort of going into the garden so he could send a photo of him clearly enjoying the daylight, flipping her off for good measure. Maybe it was a little rude, but considering she’d been the one to convince him to drink all that, he doubted she’d think it was unwarranted.

Sure, she called him a bastard in return, but from the laughing faces she didn’t actually mean it. No more than she normally thought he was anyway.

That was all fine.

It was what was underneath Wendy’s name in his contacts that was decidedly not fine.

Because clearly he hadn’t remembered _everything_ from last night.

Or at least, Oliver’s name appearing in his recent messages seemed to challenge that idea.

Fuck.

A guilty part of him couldn’t help but thank Arceus that he didn’t have Liana’s number too as he read the messages he’d sent, trying to parse the meaning among the horrendous spelling mistakes.

It amounted to little more than, ‘Kiera thinks I’m a jerk and says we shouldn’t be friends, but I thought we were friends, weren’t we?’. There was a lot of it, and it was mostly self-pitying garbage that was bound to mess with Oliver’s head, proving once and for all that Kiera had been right about Gordie anyway.

He’d barely managed to keep his bloody promise about staying away for a week! She was going to crucify him if she ever found out.

If she didn’t already know.

Drunk him really was his worst enemy, a spot that until last night had been occupied by his sober self. 

Now the question was, did he explain or just leave it? Oliver hadn’t replied, which meant that he might not want to hear from Gordie, or he’d blocked his number if Gordie was extremely lucky… but something told him he’d never be that lucky in life.

Bugger, at least if he’d been hungover he wouldn’t have had to deal with this! Or maybe he would have, how long did hangovers even last anyway?

He could pretend he’d never seen the messages and wash his hands of it? That was always an option, he knew.

Except it was terrible on literally every level. 

For once in his life he should just suck it up and do the responsible thing. If sober Gordie wasn’t willing to correct his mistakes from the night before, then who would? (In fact, he was pretty sure he’d only sent those texts in a twisted variation of that exact logic, having felt free enough to admit the truth to Oliver about how guilty he felt.)

Now he just had to tell the truth using his non-inebriated brain.

Should he try and sort it before the dinner tomorrow? On the one hand, he really didn’t want to have it hanging over him alongside all of the potential drama of his aunt, but honestly he probably wasn’t in the best state right now to talk to Oliver in person and explain himself… if Oliver was even willing to see him in the first place.

It was almost funny actually he considered, remembering that the last time he’d gotten in touch with Oliver like this was when he and his mother were reaching out to her parents in the first place. Arceus, he really had to be careful not to do anything else that would warrant a reconciliation with Oliver, because what family issue would he be trying to sort then? Tracking down his father? Facing a suddenly appearing evil twin?

Probably not, but it certainly wasn’t fair to keep dropping Oliver like this. He’d been trying to do right by him this time, and even that seemed to be a mess.

Maybe he should just say that.

(And apologise for being a drunken mess.)

He wasn’t going to drag his mom into any of this though, he imagined she already had enough on her mind. Which meant he had to avoid staring at his phone too long over the next couple of hours as he tried to construct a non-self-pitying explanation for everything. 

Of course, it was nothing short of poetic justice that Oliver didn’t get back to him until the next day.

He couldn't escape the idea that his ringtone suddenly sounded like some sort of perish song. 


	32. Family dinner

“Hi.”

Probably not the best opener after you’d drunkenly text someone you’d cut out from your life on the advice of their best friend, but there wasn’t exactly a guidebook for this sort of thing.

“Uh, Hi.” Oliver replied. “Is… this a good time?”

Why did he seem so doubtful?

To be fair, Gordie had just run through several train carriages, looking for the nearest toilet to avoid taking the call in front of his entire family; no doubt he sounded a little frazzled.

“No, yeah. It’s fine. Don’t mind me.” He lied. 

Shit, maybe not his best wording. Given Oliver’s pause, he was pretty sure they were in agreement over that.

“Alright… Look, I’ll just get straight to it. I spoke to Kiera, I know what happened.”

Fuck.

Kiera knew then.

What exactly had she told him anyway? Was it actually the truth?

“What did she say?”

Oliver just sighed, and yeah, immediately checking she wasn’t a liar probably wasn’t the smoothest thing, but it seemed important to make sure they were actually on the same page here.

“She said that you guys argued, and she… asked you to stay away from me. Oh, and something about a girl in your gym getting your armed burnt and getting your absolutely plastered the night you messaged me.”

Well… that was an accurate, if succinct way of putting it. It also put in context just how much trouble he was managing to get in with Wendy, though he wouldn’t exactly place the blame of her… he made plenty of bad choices all by himself after all. It was just innate talent.

“That’s the basic story, yeah. Though I think it’s brave to call Wendy a girl and not ‘the spawn of Darkrai’.”

Oliver obviously didn’t get the joke considering he hadn’t met her, and Gordie wondered why he’d bloody made it in the first place.

Idiot.

“Look…” He added. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it, I just didn’t want to-”

“I get why you did it, but I’m not a bloody child! I don’t need to be ‘protected’ against my own choices!” Oliver said harshly, and Gordie tried to recall if he’d ever heard this tone from him before. “From either of you!”

Shit, he was really pissed wasn’t he? It was fully warranted, mind. But it was surprisingly assertive coming from Oliver.

“I know.” Gordie admitted. “I just… I hurt you guys before because I’m a thoughtless git, and I didn’t want to do that again!”

He was met with silence, but he swore he could almost _hear_ the look that must’ve been on Oliver’s face at that.

What? He was being sincere!

“Oh come on! If you don’t want to hurt people’s feelings don’t do stupid shit like this! You say you want to be friends again, so just act normal! Do you even get why I’m annoyed?”

It was only his better wisdom that prevented him from asking whether Oliver meant this time or last time.

“Because I keep keeping secrets from you?” He tried instead.

“Because you keep doing stuff under false pretences! I get that you’re a private guy, and I’m not asking for your deepest, darkest secrets. But when you start making shit up to explain yourself then you can see how that’s bad, right?”

“Of course I can! I’m just bad at… well, this!”

“What, having friends?” Oliver rebutted sarcastically. 

“ _Yes!_ ” He shouted, suddenly remembering where he was and hoping no one had heard. “Arceus, that came out more pathetic than I’d intended. I’m not fishing for pity, I promise. I just… this is sort of a learning curve for me.”

Again, the silence on the other end of was unbearable, not being able to see his face made it all the worse.

“That doesn’t make it alright.” Oliver finally said.

“I know! I don’t wanna make it alright… like, I don’t want to pretend it was alright when it wasn’t; I _do_ want to make it alright going forward. I’m just still figuring out how that’s meant to work.”

“Arceus, you sound like an alien.” Oliver laughed, and Gordie couldn’t stop himself cringing at the comparison. Honestly, he felt the same way sometimes, only made worse by the fact he’d been plenty social when he was shit-faced the other night.

Was he just broken the rest of the time?

“It doesn’t have to be that hard, you know?” Oliver continued. “We were already friends back at our old training, and that wasn’t tricky. You were just fun to hang out with, you don’t need any grand gestures or anything. ”

Back then Gordie had been able to throw off all of his responsibilities though, none of them had known enough about to kick a fuss that might end going public.

Of course, there was no chance anyone would care enough about a random trainer in the minors to do something like that now; but Gordie just couldn’t imagine himself acting so carelessly knowing that his… _friends_ knew what they did about him. Arceus, they could find most of the lowest moments in his life online if they wanted to.

How was a fair basis for a friendship? He was pretty sure no newspapers had done the same to them.

“Are you still there?” Oliver asked, concernedly.

Gordie knew it wasn’t Oliver’s fault that newspaper hadn’t dragged his family baggage into the open, and he’d never actually wish it on him. It was just hard having that imbalance of insight into his life. 

“Yeah! I’m just… I’m sorry you know? I know I’m… _withholding_ , and I’ve probably never been straightforward in my life, outside of a stadium.” He said. “And I’m not trying to use my baggage as an excuse to be a bad friend. I want to be a better one, honestly.”

“You can’t really do that if you won’t he talk to me.” Oliver argued.

“I know. I’d just gotten it into my head that you’d be happier that way.” He admitted.

“I figured. You seemed pretty… torn up about it in your messages.”

Fuck. He’d mostly forgotten about those. (Repression, he thought dryly.)

“Oh Arceus, I’m _really_ sorry about all that stuff I said the other night, apparently I feel like victimising myself when I’m drunk. It’s not really like that.”

(To be fair, he usually did, he just knew better than to act on it while sober.)

“Eh, at least the texts weren’t as bad as the calls.”

Gordie was pretty sure he felt his heart stop at that. 

“ _What?_ ”

How could he have forgotten _that_? Was it when he’d been at the bar with Wendy? He was pretty sure the texts had been in the bathroom, if he was forced to put an event to their timestamps; but there was no way she’d let him ring someone in that state, right?

Arceus, he hoped he hadn’t been weepy or anything.

“I’m _kidding_!” Oliver interrupted, before he could imagine the possibilities any further. “Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to see if you’d actually believe me.”

“Well, good news I suppose, because I did.” He said, laughing a little despite himself, almost breathless from that sudden emotional whiplash.

He wasn’t certain it actually warranted an apology, he’d definitely earnt the scare itself… but still, literally dying from embarrassment on a train wasn’t exactly how Gordie wanted to leave this mortal coil. 

Probably what he deserved though, if not worse.

“Why do you keep giving me second chances?” He finally asked, unable to bear it anymore.

Seriously, he’d do something to fuck Oliver over, and Oliver would just try and give him advice! How was that fair?

“Because… When we’re actually hanging out, you’re nice to be around. You know?”

Gordie decidedly did not know that, and he wasn’t sure he could take Oliver’s word for it. Though realistically he supposed it was entirely subjective in the first place… He should probably just be grateful that anyone enjoyed his company.

“Plus, this time I get that Kiera pushed you into it. She can be very… _persuasive_ when she sets her mind to something.”

That was an understatement.

“Okay, but you get she wasn’t being malicious right? Her heart was literally breaking for you guys when we had that conversation and-”

“Gordie are you doing a poo?” He suddenly heard yelled from the other side of the door, interrupting his train of thought (No pun intended).

_Was Platty fucking kidding right now?_

“No!” He shouted back. “Go away!”

Granted, a train toilet was definitely not the greatest place to have this conversation, but it certainly beat having it in front of his entire bloody family. Plus, nobody had knocked so he was pretty sure it was alright.

“I’m really sorry if you heard that… it’s just my little brother.” He quickly explained to Oliver, before he got any weird ideas.

Like he was certain anyone else in that carriage probably had.

“I didn’t hear anything… is everything all right?”

Thank fuck for that, he’d hate to never talk to Oliver again out of pure embarrassment after all of this.

“Yeah it’s fine, he was just checking on me… and embarrassing me on a train full of people, actually.” He laughed.

“Wait, you’re on a train? We could’ve talked later if you’re busy!”

“It’s fine! I’m heading to a place probably much worse and well… I wanted to clear things up, I didn’t want to leave you hanging if you were ready to talk.”

“Is somebody in there?” Platty asked, tittering.

“For Arceus’ sake.” He cursed under his breath. “One sec, just gonna throw a 6-year-old out of a _moving train_.”

He unlocked the door, swooping towards Platty before he could run off, and hauled him under his arm. Who said the modern man couldn’t have a phone conversation with one hand while apprehending a squirming child in the other?

“It’s time to sit back down.” He informed him.

Apparently Platty didn’t enjoy the thought that Gordie might be up to something without him though, struggling in his grip.

“Ignore the squealing.” He told Oliver, in the awkward moment that he and Platty were stuck between the automatic doors separating the carriages. “He’s fine, he just has a dramatic streak.”

“Wonder where he gets it from.” Oliver actually had the gall to reply.

Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong in fairness, which Gordie admitted as much.

“Don’t worry. Keeps things interesting.” Oliver said.

Again, definitely not incorrect in the strictest sense, though his mother didn’t seem to think they were being ‘interesting’ as they approached their seats, where he plopped Platty gracelessly down.

“Please tell me you didn’t give your number out the other night.” She said.

“What? No! It’s Oliver, don’t worry. We shouldn’t be too long, can you keep an eye on _that one_?”

Begrudgingly she accepted, and he was impressed, as always, that she could keep Platty in place with just a look, not resorting to manhandling the way he tended to have to (though he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Platty found it anything but hilarious every time it happened).

This time he made his way just outside the carriage, waiting at the doors now he was confident this wasn’t going to end in a shouting match.

“Alright, I’m yours again.”

“Your brother seems lively.” Oliver remarked.

“That’s a nice way of putting it, yeah.”

There was a silence spreading over them, a little awkwardly, but not unbearable.

“Do you wanna meet up and talk about this properly?” Gordie asked.

Oliver just laughed.

“Is this like a pattern with you?” He asked. “We’re not business partners, Gordie. You don’t have to do everything over work lunches… If you want things to be normal again, let’s just skip to that part, yeah?”

What exactly _was_ normal though?

“Alright, if you want to.” He said, figuring he should let Oliver decide. 

“I’m guessing your hours are similar to Kiera’s right? We can hang out one of the evenings next week if you’re free?”

That sounded nice, actually. Though ‘if you’re free’ was always a dubious game considering usually _something_ popped up.

“Yeah, sounds good. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

“See you.”

Left in the muffled near silence of the space between carriages once more, Gordie couldn’t help but feel a little boneless. It felt… anticlimactic, though not necessarily in a bad way. He hadn’t really considered the long-term prospects of ignoring Oliver when he’d agreed to, and he’d certainly expected more backlash after the other night.

Yeah, he had a dramatic streak.

But most the time the shit he ended up crying over tended to have… more permanent ramifications. Arceus, he’d managed a two-year silence with his own mother, wasn’t that evidence enough? Though, to be fair, that was more like two people’s dramatic streaks mixing into a hideous smear of dramatic colour.

Sitting back down with the woman in question he couldn’t help but muse on the fact that even that they’d managed to move past even that, eventually. Now she was all concerns for his wellbeing and support for his choices, a stark contrast to their earlier years.

People could change, he knew, but it usually felt like such hard work.

Why were people like Oliver so quick to move past things that hurt them?

Gordie found himself practically obsessing over it the entire journey. Though as they left the station he forced himself to clear his head, no doubt his mother’s family would give him enough to bloody worry about. 

He wasn’t wrong.

Being inside his grandparents’ house was weird. It looked exactly as… lived-in on the outside as it did on the outside, filled with what must be holiday souvenirs, with decades worth of photos dotted about, alongside enough books to practically start a library.

Somehow, it seemed like it had more history than their house, which felt… young in comparison, a fledgling that was only just managing to take root.

It definitely had more of his mom’s history than he’d ever seen. They never really talked about it, but when she’d left home she’d obviously not taken any photos with her. He’d done the absolute same, he understood that you didn’t consider you might need things like that when you were escaping on such short notice.

He’d only been gone two years and he’d documented plenty in the time between, so he didn’t really feel a loss there… but his mother had been gone _twenty_. Plus, she hadn’t gone around taking photos while she was pregnant, and there hadn’t been anyone around to take baby photos when he had been born.

Maybe if Rotom phones had been a bit more advanced at the time it wouldn’t have happened, but a decent chunk of their life just didn’t have photographic evidence as it stood. Sure, he had a birth certificate, and they even had a couple of print outs of the ultrasounds scans, but other than that he tended to have to take his mom’s word on it.

Until now he’d had to just take her word on her own past too, but this place was a bloody treasure trove. Of course, it came with the deeply unsettling realisation that pre-puberty they honestly could have been twins. He was suddenly really, really glad he’d cut his hair for his first high school photo, because his mother had a bob on hers… and well, they would have looked like the same kid.

The photos where she was a little older took the cake though, she’d never told him she’d had a _bloody_ perm!

“It was fashionable back then!” She argued.

“Right, right… The shell suits too?” He joked, handing the offending photos over to Opal so she could have a look as well.

It was easier to think about it like that, to laugh about how funny the outdated trends were. Better that than focusing on just how _young_ she was in them, even the ones taken barely any time before she left. She’d been a bloody child practically, and her whole life had been uprooted.

Thinking too hard about it made him hate her entire family; they might have all been his mother’s choices, but they were the sort of choices she shouldn’t have had to make at her age.

He tried not to resent them for it though, her parents were clearly trying. They hadn’t wanted her to have him, but they weren’t holding it against him now for existing. (How fucking _decent_ of them.)

Her sister?

Well…. Galia was honestly a little tricky to pin down.

She looked more like his mother than her parents did, but also more like her parents than his mom. Sort of like a bridge between; confirming once and for all that they were in fact related. Her hair was a little longer than his (and he was glad he’d kept his half up, so it wasn’t just her fringe distinguishing their styles) and ashier too, with less white tones even if it wasn’t particularly colourful.

While she was a little taller than his mom, she was still definitely on the petite side, with a slimmer frame made her feel just _smaller_ somehow. Her wardrobe was more colourful and youthful, but from their features alone he wouldn’t have been able to guess who was the younger sibling without already knowing.

What was it, four years between them?

Something like that.

On the whole, she just seemed like some random lady, he’d maybe notice a resemblance if he’d seen on her the street, but he wouldn’t think twice about it. Family was funny in that way, he supposed.

Nothing from her demeanour was particularly off-putting… But he was fairly certain he didn’t like her, she just seemed _two-faced_ , somehow.

It had started practically the moment they’d walked in, when his grandparents had started introductions. Galia just rubbed him the wrong way, talking about her husband and kids like the sun genuinely shone out their arses.

Perhaps he was being unfair; maybe Ben, Tommy and Robbie were really just the greatest people to ever live. He knew he was being a little rude about it too, it was only natural being proud of your family. (Even if he wouldn’t personally be so smug about it.)

But why couldn’t she extend the same courtesy to his mom?

When his mother had introduced him, she’d asked if his name was short for fucking _Gordon_ of all things, and he was pretty sure she’d sort of rolled her eyes when he explained that it wasn’t short for anything. Surely she’d get the pun, given that she was literally named after a melon. 

“You know Mel, I’m surprised. You used to hate your name… didn’t think you’d want to pass on the legacy to your kid.”

He was right there, but whatever, don’t address him. That was fine.

Still it was interesting (if not at all surprising) that his mother hadn’t liked her name, he certainly had been less than pleased about being called Gordie for a few years once the obvious jokes started presenting themselves in school. 

“I guess it grew on me as I got a little older.” His mom replied

There was a small tinge of sadness in her words there, and he worried whether the rest of them knew her well enough to notice.

“Remember how you used to try and convince people it was Melanie?” His aunt simply laughed, reassuring him that she hadn’t noticed a thing.

She was no better when his mother explained the reasoning behind the names of the little ones. Granted, while Opal and Pearl fell somewhere among the normal, if uncommon, part of the spectrum, Platty and Mondy were definitely unusual names. But, like his mom pointed out, there were no gemstone names for boys, and she’d wanted to keep the theme for the three of them.

(Part of him suspected Galia resented that his mom had triplets while she had twins.)

“A true convert to celebrity naming then?” Was all she replied.

Because, Arceus forbid a child’s name be meaningful for reasons you can’t immediately see. He knows how much his mother had valued Opal’s help in the early years of her career… Their names were almost like an extension of that kindness she’d been shown. She shouldn’t have to explain that for her naming choices to be worthwhile to a woman who barely knew her!

“She was sort of a trendsetter there.” He interrupted, to spare her having to. “I think everyone noticed a sudden uptick in the number of gemstone babies up north once the triplets were born. There’s at least three Sapphires in the year below them at school.”

That only managed to shut her up for a few minutes, though she was no better in her silence honestly.

Her eyes seemed to be always watching whenever he wasn’t…

Creepy woman.

Somehow, whatever he thought of her, Galia and his mother seemed to get on like a house on fire.

Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate.

They certainly weren’t finding a shortage of things to talk about though. Endlessly laughing about a bunch of names from their past that Gordie had never bloody heard of, Galia probably managing to fill his mom in on two decades of gossip in the shortest time humanly possible.

But it felt like the sort of chat you’d have at the hairdressers. Not that Galia was a hairdresser (he was pretty sure she mainly sold pyramid scheme makeup from the sounds of things). There was just this sense that you could never say _too_ much around her, lest the very next person she talk to find out about it.

So there was something a little one sided about the conversation, even if it seemed like they were never at a loss for words.

Personally, he felt like he could do with hearing a little less about how Robbie was apparently a musical prodigy because he’d gotten Grade 2 recorder this year.

Again, it wouldn’t be so insufferable, if Gordie wasn’t confident that Galia wouldn’t even be able to distinguish Mondy and Platty despite the fact they’d been introduced under an hour ago and hadn’t even changed clothes or anything since.

Still, the lop-sided familial bragging was… tolerable, even if he’d ended up stuck chatting with her husband, who ended up delivering a very in-depth explanation of his administration work in some sort of middle management company (or something like that).

Dinner itself was less tolerable.

The arrangements for it seemed a little… _extreme_ , though Gordie imagined that there weren’t many options for people who wanted to seat 11 people.

But still, combining two dining tables into a franken-table in the garden was a bit much, even if the weather here allowed it more than it would back home. Where had they even gotten an entire spare dining table? Sub-urbanites were weird, he’d always known it, but this was especially compelling evidence.

Another thing he’d always been spared and never fully appreciated dodging, was passive-aggressive dinner talks. The kids were too young, and he and his mother just weren’t really the type. Sullen and dramatic, maybe. But at least they weren’t as prone to passive-aggressive jabs as her sister apparently was. 

For no bloody reason too.

“Dad’s actually lost _so much_ weight since he’s started doing Kantonese food you know.” She addressed his mother, almost as soon as they’d been served up. 

The ‘you should try it’ was left unsaid, but not unnoticed.

_Fucking fantastic._

He’d actually wondered if he’d just been overly sensitive regarding the way his aunt seemed to be… critically scanning his mother’s frame since they’d arrived (and his actually). But she’d basically just come out and said it. The kids seemed to have missed the implications of it, but Opal definitely hadn’t; she wasn’t stupid.

“It wasn’t so much like that.” His grandfather quickly replied, obviously catching the tone. “I started learning the recipes because the doctors said I should for my heart… It turns out they’re actually nicer than a lot of Galarian food, luckily. Very... time-consuming though. Certainly not for everyone.”

How very diplomatic.

Gordie wondered how many arguments he’d had to settle when his daughters were younger, and whether Galia had been so venomous back then… and if his mother had never argued back, or if she just felt too guilty about leaving to do so now.

Maybe no one calling her out back then had led to Galia becoming a woman who would say stuff like that to her own sister, after years of separation.

What kind of impression did that leave Opal with if his mom wouldn’t fight back?

So yeah, he’d started the meal in a bad mood, and probably wasn’t supporting his mother’s attempts at conversation as much as he should have, especially considering her sister’s not at all subtle attempts at changing the subject every time anything Pokémon-related came up.

The idea that she didn’t want to acknowledge his mom’s career was motivation enough to pipe in with a comment to get them back on track every now and again.

Clearly, she didn’t appreciate that. But, to be fair, he didn’t appreciate that she kept staring at him and his mom just because they were eating. News flash, it was a family meal, they were all eating!

Well, nearly all. 

Mondy seemed apprehensive to eat any of it. That Platty was enthusiastic trying a bit of everything on offer and Pearl seemed to be enjoying it too wasn’t doing anything to persuade him. Instead he was just moving the bits already there around his plate, stacking them to hide the smaller parts.

“Don’t play with your food.” Gordie quietly chastised.

Unfortunately, his mother said basically the same thing simultaneously, which did nothing but draw attention to the whole situation. Mondy seemed a little embarrassed that everyone was suddenly looking, but Gordie figured they were more amused by their response than Mondy’s actions.

“If you’ve tried it and don’t like it, then it’s alright, you can just say.” He whispered.

Unfortunately, the scrutiny must have been too great for him to do so (or he just genuinely hadn’t tried it) because he just took a forkful and started eating.

Gordie just sighed.

“Aw, Mel, you’ve practically got a mini-you in this one.” Galia crooned, gesturing to him. 

Oh come on, if anyone was ‘mini’ it was his mom, he was pretty sure he’d been taller than he since his teens, and he wasn’t exactly tall… Probably not the point though.

“He’s just looking out for the little ones.”

Well, that was half true. Gordie figured in most situations they were the threat, not the victims. For example, _humiliating_ people during important phone calls in public places. 

“What you gonna do when he moves out?” She laughed. “The others will be a mum down.”

Wow. He’d thought being likened to their dad was weird and depressing, but being told he was basically their mom was somehow even _worse_.

“Ah, I think we’ll, cross that bridge when we come to it.” His mother replied.

“It’s gonna happen sooner rather than later Mel; _a boy his age_.”

Seriously what was her problem? Like, he doesn’t know how much houses cost over here but he highly doubted most 20-year-olds had left home, even down south. What was the point of it in Circhester when rent was bloody extortionate, and his mother could use the help with the kids anyway?

“I actually moved out a few years ago.” He corrected her. “I came back to Circhester last year to help out after… _everything_.”

Moved out was probably a more glamourous way of saying ran away from home, but it wasn’t exactly _false_. Besides, he could tell she’d have a field day with the other version.

Thankfully she didn’t seem to have anything snide to add at the reminder of his mother’s widowing.

“I heard about that. I’m sorry for your loss.” She said, the closest to sincere she’d been since she’d arrived.

“How have your kids been holding up?” Her husband Ben added.

Nice to know he _could_ talk and was just choosing to not pipe in when his wife was being an arsehole.

“They’ve all be golden.” His mother said. “I suppose with the little ones, kids are just a lot more resilient at that age than we give them credit for.”

That was true, they definitely weren’t carrying that same grief with them they were when he’d first returned. He couldn’t help but recall his mother’s fears that they’d forget their dad. He still doubted it would happen, but they’d probably moved on more than his mom or Opal ever world, having him in their life for so little time. In the grand scheme of things anyway.

Though his mom was moving forward too; he doubted she’d have been able to speak so freely about it even a few months ago.

“You guys would have liked him though… He had a good head on his shoulders. Nothing like me.” She explained with a small laugh.

The melancholy in her words was obvious; Gordie doubted even her family could miss it. Part of him wondered whether she liked being asked about it or not. He honestly couldn’t tell if it hurt her or meant something to her to be given the chance to talk about him, to remember he’d been there.

Of course, as if in vengeance for bringing up the topic in the first place, his mother suddenly threw the focus onto him instead, prompting them to tell them all about his travels before he came home.

He’d spoken about it a little with her parents already, but realising just how much her father wanted to visit Kanto after learning more about the culture through recipes, Gordie actually wished he’d spent a little more time in the region, so he’d have a few more stories for him.

“Why don’t you go now? Isn’t that what semi-retirement is for?”

“Ah well, one of the downsides of getting old.” He laughed. “No travel insurer in the world wants to cover me with my heart. It’s alright though, I’m internet literate enough to keep exploring, in a way.”

Oh, he imagined he’d made things awkward there.

Surely his mother could see this is why they shouldn’t play hot potato with the burden of conversation. Eventually, one of them would inevitably fuck up.

She didn’t seem to mind when he fell back into occasional responses, taking the hint to just let Galia talk at them about how her kids where better than everyone else’s for a bit.

He focused on the food, really not wanting to hear it. (Again.)

Until now he’d been avoiding the small, battered balls of what he'd been informed was minced Octillery, feeling too guilty to eat one after literally fostering one for the past week, but his equally guilt-inducing sense of being ungrateful to their hosts had finally won him over.

Except that his aunt watched him disapproving as he moved his fork towards one, as if the thought of him eating anything else today was disgusting. 

He shot her a tight-lipped smile and stabbed one with obvious force, satisfied as she quickly averted her eyes to her husband.

Not even 48 hours ago he’d been pissed off his head, eating probably way too many curly fries that an equally drunk idiot had bought, all without anybody giving a fuck or butting it where it wasn’t their business. Arceus, he really hadn’t thought he’d be nostalgic for that time so quickly, but to be fair, being in this woman’s company made him nostalgic for literally every moment of his life he hadn’t known her, or that she even existed.

Sure, the comments were being spared for his mother, but she seemed to have more than enough judgmental sneer-smiles to go around. Besides, he was obviously bigger than his mom, so the remarks kind of applied to him by default.

Suspecting someone was offended by your existence (and probably your waistline), was different to _knowing_ it, he mused. Surprisingly, it wasn’t really all that much worse. Hadn’t Wendy said as much once? She’d gotten on at him about how he was just torturing himself, and although he would never say as much to her, he knew she was right. He’d known the truth in it at the time.

Of course, actually solving it was probably more complex than could be achieved over the rest of the afternoon.

But in the meantime, he had another piece of advice from Wendy he could probably utilise right now.

Plastering a smile firmly in place he began listening for a good time to begin offering input.

“Sorry, but that just reminded me. Did I ever tell you about this time that mum made a champion from another region cry because she beat them?”

Faking outrageous friendliness was a roaring success, and he was almost tempted to text Wendy and inform her that she was in fact a genius. Knowing that she’d be insufferable about it was the only thing stopping him.

Plus, she wasn’t exactly the one who invented ‘fake it till you make it’.

But she may just be the person to most effectively weaponize it for spite.

Not that his mom’s family seemed to see it that way, they seemed far more lively about his stories that he’d hoped. It was clearly getting under Galia’s skin to hear basically the highlights of the last two decades of her sister’s career though.

_Good._

Now, if only his mother could see it that way.

She decisively didn’t though, managing to get him alone under the pretence of washing up after the meal. (Not that _that_ part was fake though, she was just going to judge him while doing so).

“Are you _drunk again_?” She asked harshly, once she seemed confident that they were out of earshot of her family in the garden.

Ah, so she’d noticed when he’d decided to start being aggressively amiable.

“What? _No!_ I’m not even acting that weird.” He argued.

“Uh, yeah you are.” She said. “Seriously, are you like, concussed or something, because if we need to get you to a hospital we can do that.”

“I’m sure it being a convenient excuse to leave has _nothing_ to with that.” He joked.

“Guilty as charged.” She replied dryly. “But seriously, you’re acting really weird Gord.”

What? Him being chatty and friendly was weird? …Alright, so maybe she had a point, but her family didn’t know that! For all her parents knew he was just finally coming out of his shell. And for all her awful sister knew, he was just an extraverted person who got on her nerves.

He couldn’t stop the smirk climbing onto his face at the thought of it.

“I’m just being conversational and getting to know everyone.” He tried.

His impression of innocence must not have been very good however, considering the flat look she levelled him with.

“Please tell me you’re not genuinely doing this just to spite my sister.”

“I’m not doing this _just_ to spite your sister.” He defended. “I’m… promoting your successes to your family too, what’s so wrong with that?”

Clearly she thought _something_ was wrong with that, clasping her face in her hands before wringing them through her hair. Couldn’t please everyone, he supposed.

(Especially when you were setting out to make someone as annoyed as possible in the first place.)

“Because you don’t have to! I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, I don’t need to rub it in their faces to feel better about my life. And you shouldn’t have to put on a front around them Gord, they’re _family_.”

He wasn’t sure he could ever tell her that while they might be her family, he was unsure they’d ever truly be his. She was really _trying_ , and he felt bad that he didn’t feel any connection to them that made him want to do the same.

Was it enough to try and do it for her? In the face of all this?

“You’d think family would have more to do than shoot us dirty looks and snide comments.” He challenged.

At least she looked bothered at that, and wasn’t just choosing to ignore it.

“Gord? Is she upsetting you?” She said. “Galia has always kind of been that way to be honest, but if it’s getting to you..”

How reassuring that she’d always been a little terrible, and couldn’t try to blame his mother for it.

“It’s not.” He said. “Her opinion means _literally_ nothing to me. But I am _seconds_ away from telling her that I’d rather be, like, three times my size than a bitter, unaccomplished bitch.”

“ _Gordie!_ ” His mother hissed. “Where did _that_ come from?”

Granted, it had come out a… _tad_ rude. But Galia was a caricature that had impersonated a human at some point down the line, so he was pretty sure it was warranted.

“Sorry… But come on! She was glowering practically every time either of us picked up a fork… And I really don’t think it’s because she’d have preferred chopsticks.”

“Are you sure? Why were you even checking?”

Because he was a paranoid mess who apparently only felt comfortable eating around groups of people when he was drunk?

That probably wouldn’t go over well. Besides, he’d been trying and he was pretty sure he’d made some progress today by making it abundantly clear where Galia could stick it.

“Your sister is the human equivalent of a brick to the face. It’s sort of impossible to miss.” He retorted dryly.

"I know she can be a bit... rude at times." 

Ah, so she wasn't in oblivious, she just wouldn't stand up for herself. 

“Then why are you giving her a pass?”

“Well, you give Platty a pass when he’s rude.” She pointed out.

“He’s _six_!” He pointed out, accidentally getting bubbles from the washing up on her as he gestured with a plate.

Thankfully, she ignored it, wiping it off without comment. 

“And one day he won’t be… but he’ll always be your baby brother to you, on some level.”

“Well, your ‘baby sister’ is a rude… _lady.”_ He said, figuring he should probably avoid saying anything particularly derogatory considering she _was_ her sister. “She’s not a child, and she shouldn’t get away with behaving like one.”

“I don’t know that children are particularly prone to passive aggression.” His mother pointed out dryly.

Not exactly the point though, was it?

“Galia was always… more of a wallflower growing up. A lot me is just proud that she’s so much more outgoing now.”

“Okay, but you can tell that she’s been rude to you, right?”

“I know how it probably sounds from your perspective, but I know her. I honestly think her comments come from a place of concern. Completely misplaced concern, yes. But not malice.”

Well, it felt pretty bloody malicious.

His face must have said as much, because she continued.

“It probably sounds silly, but Galia had a little bit of baby fat growing up, and people are cruel to young girls, you know?” She explained. “She’s clearly proud of her body now, and she works hard for it, she was telling me earlier about all the classes she does… That’s just something that’s important to her.”

“So that gives her the right to give rude, unsolicited advice?” He challenged.

“I think she feels like she’s being helpful. We haven’t spoken since we were teenagers Gord. Teenage girls are silly about this sort of thing, I was tiny and I would still go on about my weight… I never really considered how it would make her feel. I think this is just the same thing, she can’t see how I’d change my mind on something like that, because she never did.”

“Why did you when she didn’t?” He asked, hoping it didn’t sound like he was asking for himself.

Granted, he was just a little bit. Faking it until you made it was all well and good, but it didn’t make attaining it for real any easier.

“Not to be crude… But I’ve had five children. I had three bloody children at once even. I’m pretty sure that short of being a Ditto, that changes your body by default.” She laughed. “I dunno… I don’t want it to sound like I just _accepted_ it, because that makes it sound kind of unhappy. It’s more that, well, even with the media attention, no one around me treated me like I was unattractive for it. Most people were more impressed and enamoured with the babies, and even once that novelty wore off, their father never made me feel anything less than beautiful, you know? It was never a big deal that only some of the baby weight came off.”

“So what? You think Ben is a dick?”

“Shhh!” She scolded. “I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t think it’s his fault”

“Then what?”

“I think… she was younger when she got told the negative stuff, so that’s what she internalised, and any positives afterwards just didn’t penetrate as deeply.” She finally admitted. “I’ll… I’ll make sure to talk with Opal later, make sure she’s not taking it to heart."

That wasn’t a bad shout, obviously Opal was _tiny_ , but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that people wouldn’t call someone too skinny in the same breath they’d call someone else fat. He was glad that she was bearing that in mind, even if she apparently didn't get that how uncomfortable it was making him.

He didn't want to be the one to ruin this for her though, if she really wanted to get to know her sister again.

“Please Gordie, I know it doesn’t exactly feel _great_ , but try and be nice, she’s honestly not trying to be horrible, she just has…. different things that drive her.”

“I don’t think that’s a valid reason to be rude to people.” He argued.

“No?” His mother said almost slyly, making him worry immediately. “I think it’s a little bit like calling someone ‘bitter and unaccomplished’ because they don’t have a career, and you can’t imagine being happy without one.”

Bugger.

She had him there.

But, in his defence, he’d been _driven_ to say that, and he hadn’t even said it in front of her!

“That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it? I know you Gord.”

Being annoyed by bad work ethic was nothing like judging people for their weight, regardless of whether he did it or not.

“I don’t think I patronise strangers over their work ethic though.”

“She not a stranger, she’s my sister!”

Hadn’t they just had that argument?

“Okay, fine. I don’t think I patronise Pearl because she doesn’t have a job.”

His mother just rolled her eyes, but he still felt that had been pretty funny.

“Besides, are you asking me to not judger her, or to be fine with her judging us?” He asked sardonically.

“I’m asking you to be the bigger person.”

“Pretty sure that’s her problem with me in the first place.”

That managed to pull a little laugh out of his mom, despite herself.

“Don’t be petulant.” She said, though she sounded fond. “But... You know there’s nothing wrong with your weight, right?”

Granted, he didn’t being fat was some sort of moral defect, but he didn’t exactly thrive on being forced to spend time with someone who clearly thought it was. Didn’t make him feel _fantastic_ about himself.

“Yeah, I know.” He said instead.

“Then please try and be… civil. We were warned that she was gonna be comparing us to her family a lot, but underneath that she’s honestly a nice person, _I promise_. And if she doesn't lay off, I'll talk to her.”

As she said it, she pulled him into a hug, and he just didn’t have the heart to tell her that maybe her sister wasn’t the same nice person she’d apparently been at 12-years-old.

When they went back in he was prepared to honestly try though.

The evening wasn’t as bad as dinner had been, even if playing trivial pursuit wasn’t exactly his idea of fun. He did however feel an odd burst pride when he’d gotten one of the sports questions on gymnastics right, remembering when Larissa had made him watch a video of the routine it had referred to.

Though as a consequence his mom had started talking about his own gymnastics, probably thinking it would help him find common ground with Galia because of all of her classes… Except, somehow he imagined they had very different things in mind with their fitness goals, and he tried to brush off the conversation as subtly as possible. He could just tell she would be dismissive of his work because of his weight. 

Why did his stupid brain feel embarrassed by things like that? He infuriated _himself_ most the time!

Thankfully Opal was already showing signs of having a much more useful brain in their game, and he could tell that it was making their grandparents very… well, something between proud and nostalgic, though he didn’t think Galia or his mother were particularly academically focused.

Or so he thought.

It came as a pretty big surprise when Galia started joking about his mother’s _poetry_ of all things later that evening.

Mostly because he had never known his mother to have an interest in even reading poetry, let alone writing it.

“I grew out of all that stuff.” She offered as explanation, laughing lightly.

None of it reached her eyes though, and once more he was reminded that there was a big chunk of her life that no one was properly witness to.

_What had happened to her?_

“I never realised you were ever into it.” He said, reckoning one of her family would fill him, even if she wouldn’t.

They didn’t disappoint.

“Our Mel was always a little bit of an artist.” Her mother said. “Always trying her hand at something or other, but you did tend to prefer words over visual art in the end, didn’t you?”

“Mostly because I was just never very good at drawing.” She laughed. “Or sculpting... Or poetry now that I’m thinking about it. Maybe that’s why I quit.”

Unless she’d quit before she left (which it didn’t sound like) he was pretty sure he could guess the real reason.

The possibility that he'd basically managed to kill the sense of artistry in his mother's soul didn't leave him for the rest of the night. 

Part of him was too afraid to ask, even after they'd left and the little ones were drifting off on the train… though whether that was because Opal was wide awake, or he was just scared of the answer he honestly couldn’t tell.

“So what did you think of auntie Galia?” His mother asked.

“She’s alright, I guess. I don’t really know.” Opal admitted.

“Eh, just think of it as another potential birthday present.” He suggested.

“ _Gordie._ ”

“I’m kidding!” He claimed, though winked at Opal, watching as she tried to supress a smile.

“It’s alright, I know she’s a little… judgey. I just don’t want you guys to be cut-off from your family. You don’t have to spend time with them if you don’t want to, I just want you to have the choice.”

He supposed he could appreciate the sentiment, though he’d personally moved past the time he’d felt lonely and in search of family.

Wasn’t the one they had enough?

At least spending time with them didn’t seem to dredge up unpleasant questions.

Though, as he watched Opal’s head gently fall to their mother’s shoulder, he could at least appreciate that they were able to take this on as a family.

That was better than thinking about the other things.

Even if it couldn’t make them go away.


	33. Little Talks

Turned out drunken mistakes had consequences.

Consequences that mainly consisted of Mac and Wendy ripping the piss out of him, and Kiera being pissed _at_ him.

Seriously, what had Oliver said to her? Gordie hadn’t thought it had gone that badly on his end.

There was no way he could talk to her during training without everyone going on high alert for disasters though, which meant he had to wait until they were on the train home to actually try and address it.

_Alone._

That definitely seemed like it increased the disaster risk to him.

Especially because Kiera was very, very annoyed that Gordie hadn’t even done it because of his own principles, but because of an unholy amount of cocktails.

(Well, it was a bit of both really if you asked him.)

“If it makes you feel any better, Oliver publicly grilled me about it right before a family dinner I can only describe as _punishing_.” He reassured dryly. 

“How terrible. I literally cannot describe the sympathy I’m feeling right now.”

“You’d have probably enjoyed it actually, it was just hours of an aunt I’d never met being snide and judgemental at my expense.” 

“Really? You’d think it would take her a little longer than that to realise you’re an utter knob.” She rebutted, without a trace of guilt. “Oh, wait…”

Their little truce must have been well and truly broken if she was willing to be this antagonistic about it.

That was fine. If he was being honest, he’d been itching non-stop for the fight he hadn’t been able to have at his grandparents' house. Kiera seemed to be of the same mind, possibly because of everything with Oliver. Fighting was almost inevitable at this point.

At the very least he was going to make it super awkward for her though.

“Actually, it was mostly demeaning me over my weight.” He said flatly.

Let Kiera try and condone _that_. He reckoned it might be too personal a topic for her to even address; she’d always been too polite to take the obvious cracks at his figure, despite their grievances.

From the cutting look she was giving him though, he figured she was gonna take a shot at it.

“Oh that’s awful!” She said, voice thick with mock sadness. “Want me introduce you to another couple of friends you can string along to bolster your fragile self-esteem?”

Ouch. She really _was_ going for the bone today, wasn’t she?

Seriously, what did Oliver _say_ to her?

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you probably don’t _have_ another couple of friends, considering you’re counting your sister you always bitched about in the first lot.”

The scowl he earnt for his efforts made it worth it.

“Stop projecting Gordie, we don’t _all_ hate our family… Even the ones who are ice trainers.”

For Arceus’ sake, did people really have this pervasive belief that he hated his _mother_? It really wasn’t worth fighting it here of all places, with _Kiera_ of all people though.

“Speaking of which… As _pleasant_ as this was, next stop is mine. Gotta go pick up my siblings for my mum. You know how it is with favours for people you hate.” He said sardonically, getting up and turning away. “Oh, and if you see Oliver, ask him if he’s still on for later this week.”

An awful, smug part of him didn’t turn to see her reaction at the finishing blow. He didn’t exactly need to, he already knew it had gotten under her skin with it.

Now was the time _not_ to be a giant bastard though, there was no point in taking out his confrontational mood out on the triplets, or on any of the teachers who had already had to deal with them for an entire day.

Thankfully, the school wasn’t too busy when he arrived, the only remaining handfuls of students being the others who attended after-school clubs. Gordie couldn’t remember doing much of that when he was a kid. In fact, though he’d never really understood that it would be any other way, the gym scheduled had sort of been built around his school timetable growing up.

They’d start late so his mother would be able to drop him off, and have a break around three so she could pick him up, meaning he usually caught the last few hours of training even before school started allowing him days off. These days he doubted that his mother would get away with shifting gym times like that though. Not if Rose had anything to say about it.

He was always a little surprised that the triplets didn’t resent it, or that Opal didn’t mind always coming back from school to an empty house… It wasn’t exactly what they’d grown up knowing until this point.

Maybe Galia was right about him though, for all that people around them liked to cast him in a paternal role over the triplets, he was a piss poor replacement for the man who had actually been their father.

No, he truly was more like a duplicate mother.

Neither of them had the time for simple things like school pickups, after all.

Gordie just hoped they didn’t grow to hate them for it. 

Today at least, they obviously didn’t. Platty never bothered to hide how he was feeling, and their mother must not have told him Gordie was coming, if the way his face lit up in a million-watt grin was any indication.

Honestly, he was pretty sure that smile could power the entire bloody region.

As Platty ran towards him he got down to scoop him high into the air, taking advantage of the time before his brother regained his sense of playground pride that would have him wanting to prove he could walk home for himself.

“Ah, so I’m guessing you’re Gordie.” A man probably a few years older than him called out, stepping from the doorway with Mondy and Pearl in tow.

How exactly did he know _that_ then? 

“Oh no, does my reputation precede me?” Gordie asked, aiming for levity.

“This one talks about you a lot.” He explained, gesturing to Platty.

The man seemed fond of his brother as he said it.

It was nice to know Platty was able to endear himself to staff, even being as boisterous as he was. Arceus knew Gordie had never quite managed it.

“Hopefully nothing too awful.”

The man just laughed, which boded well.

“As far as Platty is concerned, you hang the moon.” He simply said. “I think if he were allowed, he’d genuinely try and bring you in for show-and-tell.”

Clearly, the boy in question was getting a little embarrassed at the attention, fighting his way to be put back on the ground so he could prove his independence. He’d probably never understand how much his… admiration towards Gordie meant to him, but that was alright.

In fact, he’d probably be unimpressed if he did ever realise, it might be the thing to finally clue him up to the realisation that his brother was actually a bit of a loser. For instance, no one wanted to look up to a git who picked fights with their technically teenaged work colleague because they hadn’t been willing to actually address the person who’d put them in a bad mood to begin with. 

(He’d only been able to moan about Galia to his mother so much, after all.)

Now really wasn’t the time to unpack any of that though, he mused, instead thanking their teacher for looking after them. He took their bookbags while they clumsily put on their coats in preparation for going home.

Or rather, going to the stadium to have his mother collect them.

It was a bloody nerve-wracking thought, even though logically he knew she would be the only person still there. That had been the entire point of him picking them up, to give her the time to close up for the night.

Well, at least feign the motions of doing so until they were certain no one would catch him and Coalossal. Training in a stadium that pretty much haunted him was far from an ideal solution, but it was more freedom than most would have. How many people could say they had access that an isolated power spot they could control and use exclusively?

(Of course, how often would someone need that anyway, aside from this _exact_ situation?)

The triplets quickly caught on to the fact that this wasn’t the route home, and he wasn’t looking forward to the moment when they realised they weren’t actually going to do anything fun… He’d probably pawn that responsibility off to his mother, even if it was a little cowardly of him. 

That was just one of a quickly growing multitude of things roiling his nerves though. What if he ran into one his mother’s trainers? It wasn’t anywhere outside the realm of possibility that they’d stopped to do some shopping after work before going home, in fact it was more of a miracle that he hadn’t bumped into any of them until now… Wearing a rock uniform probably wasn’t the best look either, even if his jacket was doing a good job of covering most of the logo.

He didn't understand how things _wouldn't_ go wrong. 

His worries were apparently in vain though, he managed to make it to the gym without bumping into any of them. Maybe it wasn’t that unusual that he’d pulled it off, and he had just anticipated himself to having the worst luck possible with this sort of thing.

(Though in his defence, it felt like he usually did.)

In a way being alone with his mother made it weirder, though it took him a few seconds to realise what felt so off about it.

It was all the bloody uniforms.

Really, it shouldn’t have been weird at all. Pretty much every morning they’d say their goodbyes and set off wearing the uniform of their gyms. He’d chalk it up to another one of his little… complexes, but his mother was clearly getting the same unsettled feeling from the looks of her.

Maybe standing in the stadium finally made it real.

Or it could be that his gym had taken the first concrete step in making themselves an opposition that made it real… That battle last week had made it possible that one day they could be standing in this stadium facing off with his mom, as rivals.

Well, Mac would be, rather than him… which was a strange thought.

He’d lose. Gordie knew that much, and he imagined Mac did too. If they did manage to get in the running for promotion in a few years’ time, the man wouldn’t be foolish enough to challenge Circhester while Motostoke lay much closer within reach; he was… _practical_ like that.

(But how sustainable was that really? Wasn’t it worth keeping in a gym you knew you had a clear advantage over? Maybe they’d be better served trying to eliminate one of the lower ranked ones they had a type disadvantage towards.)

It wasn’t worth wasting his time ruminating over very, very distant hypotheticals, he reminded himself.

“Hey mum, I’ve got you a present.” He called out instead, ready to handover the triplets.

It had been great to spend the walk over with them, and after the dinner last night he was acutely aware that since joining the gym, the time they’d gotten to spend together had reduced dramatically.

But those three still had each other… Coalossal didn’t have anybody else. He needed Gordie more than the triplets did right now.

Hopefully, if he managed to sort it so Mac was comfortable letting Coalossal train with the class again, he’d be able to give the triplets a little more attention. But something had to give for them to reach that point.

There must have been some stragglers leaving the gym earlier, because his mother was still putting up the ceiling for snow cover. (Well, cover to avoid people seeing Coalossal if he did dynamax him today, but nobody had to know that.)

It was always strange, watching it happen from below

The sky seemed limited somehow, whenever the roof was closing. As though the ceiling lay not below the sky, but above it, slowly devouring the first glimmers of stars appearing in the violet dusk. Shadows spread across the ground beneath, looking every bit as vast as the indigo bleeding through the clouds.

Once it was done, only the stadium itself remained.

Hadn’t that always been the only thing, really?

Dimly lit, the blue stone looked more otherworldly than usual, stretching out and reflecting in strange ways that made it the space look truly endless. The stands looked mountainous when empty too, stretching towards the sky and for the first time Gordie wondered just how small they must seem down here to the watchers up there.

Right now there wasn't any audience though, not while the triplets were in the control room with his mother. There wasn’t a single pair of eyes to judge or jeer.

He’d spent so many years of his childhood wondering what he’d do in this sort of situation, almost like his own version of being trapped in a toy store overnight… and he’d done absolutely bloody none of them back when he’d had the keys.

Granted, part of growing up was understanding that the stupid fantasies you held as a child had real world consequences and weren’t always feasible.

But really, who would be hurt by _one_ measly victory lap around the pitch?

Though there was a big part of him that felt silly doing so, he broke into a sprint around the perimeter, marvelling at the way that the stadium’s size made him feel like he was still outdoors.

Arceus, he could almost _hear_ the sound of the crowd too, the way their screams would be carried by the breeze, playing in his head like an imaginary echo.

Suddenly he no longer felt fatigued from training earlier, the day’s events melting away and leaving him weightless, unable to stop his own momentum even if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to anyway.

Once upon a time this place had been his playground, even if he struggled to properly remember feeling so carefree about it. He remembered the feeling changing though. Melony’s trainers had quickly stopped being amused by him pulling tricks like cartwheeling or walking on his hands in training, desperately overestimating his attention span as a child, and promptly putting a stop to any behaviour that could be seen as showboating as he got older.

(It was hard not to resent them for it, seeing the sort of shite people pulled in matches these days.)

Good job they couldn’t see him now he figured, launching himself onto his arms and ignoring the twinge from his burned one. It wasn’t too bad anyway, he’d probably be able to do some training this weekend at the very least.

Performing was better here though. Sure, there wasn’t a springy floor, but there also wasn’t an audience to see him making a fool of himself like this.

Still, he actually felt alright about it as he made his final landing, glad that he wasn’t suddenly going to have to re-learn everything from scratch because he’d taken a couple of weeks off.

Several feet behind he heard a sigh, cutting through the crescendo he’d created in the silence. “Gordie, what are you _doing_?” His mother asked.

_He was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat at the noise._

“What are _you_ doing!” He accused. “Thought you’d gone. Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!”

“Watch the language! The others are only a little down the way.” She chided. “You still haven’t explained why you were… cartwheeling around the place.”

Technically, it had been _handspringing_ , but he wasn’t sure it was the semantics she was interested in, and somehow ‘I just wanted to’ didn’t feel like a sufficient answer either.

“I forgot how… spacious this place is. I suppose I’ve gotten used to the stadiums used for the minors.” He offered in explanation instead.

“Yeah it is big, and it has very, very hard stone floors you’d break something on if you fell!” She replied, roughly rubbing her right eye.

Obviously she was used enough to Circhester that she probably took it for granted. Not to mention that she looked exhausted anyway… he knew competing season for the majors was in full swing, and even if they hadn’t directly talked about it, it was impossible _not_ to hear about her gym in this bloody town.

They were doing about as well as normal, but their was no winning for his mother when it came to the press. Either she was off her game because it was the first season since… her sabbatical, or she was throwing herself into work to ignore her _sad, womanly_ feelings.

They weren’t bloody subtle in their implications, that was for sure.

“Good job I had no intention of falling then.” He defended. “Besides, hard stone is basically my thing at this point, I’d have been fine.”

She just rolled her eyes at his reassurance, not bothering to suppress a scoff.

“I’m not taking you back to A&E if something happens, I doubt anyone would be impressed you took your dressings off early either.”

“I’m a firm believer in the curative powers of ice stones for burns.” He joked. “Besides, nothing’s gonna happen! I promise I wasn’t planning on an all-night… _dance recital,_ I just…”

“Just what?” She asked, though from the look on her face he was pretty sure she knew full well what.

Was she seriously gonna make him say it? Sadistic woman.

“I guess I was just… _a little_ excited to be back.” He mumbled, hoping it would get lost in the space between them.

Of course it didn’t though, this place was literally designed to have ridiculous acoustics. Which meant that his mother’s laughter echoed all the louder around them, bouncing off the walls to circle them from all sides.

Right. This place had always been all her.

“Just… make sure you don’t get _too_ excited, okay? This is all above board, but I really don’t need the accusations of nepotism that will inevitably follow if the entire town manages to find out about it.”

“We are both aware it’s disgustingly nepotistic right though?” He joked

“It’s for public safety! If another trainer I trusted needed to ensure a Pokémon could dynamax safely I’d do the same for them.”

 _Sure_ she would. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay though?” She added. “Just in case anything goes wrong.”

“I trust Coalossal. I really don’t think anything’s gonna happen, I only got hurt last time because I tried to physically catch him instead of just using his pokeball like a normal person… I’m not gonna make that mistake again.”

With his jacket sleeve in the way he might not have been able to _see_ the raw, pink reminder on his arm, but he knew it was there.

“Besides, he might be a little wary and I don’t want him and the triplets to end up hyping each other up because they’re scared.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna leave my phone on loud. If you need me, I can make it happen.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Today I’m gonna sort of play it by ear, but I’ll be safe, _I promise_. I’m not keen for anymore hospital visits.”

Gordie really was a git, he knew. When he’d gone and pulled that last time he must’ve worried her sick, even if he’d only told her after the fact. Now she seemed a little bit reluctant to let him even try, grabbing him into a tight hug that she wasn’t letting up on. It was like the second she let him go she knew he was going to do something stupid.

Which granted, he was, but it wasn’t something _dangerous_. Though even he felt shocked by his level of conviction, he was certain that Coalossal would never lose the sense of mind to keep him safe.

He quickly leaned down to kiss his mom on the cheek as they said their goodbyes, and he smiled as she started fussing over what he was supposed to have for tea when he got back.

“I’ll figure something out.” He reassured her.

Honestly, until now he probably hadn’t appreciated just how far his mother had been going out on a limb for him and Coalossal. There had been nothing making her fight so hard for Gordie being able to keep him after the first incident with Macro Cosmos… and after the accident with his arm, he was a little surprised that she hadn’t changed her mind and convinced the group to take him.

Was it because of the truth they’d learnt with Opal? Or did she just want to protect his feelings?

Either way, he really had to think of some way to make it up to her at some point.

In the meantime though, he had someone else he had to make stuff up to. Or two someones, really.

The rest of his team had been out all day for training, but with Coalossal and Frosty, it felt like he had barely seen them this past week… Well, mainly Coalossal; his Frosmoth had made it very clearly that while he was injured she expected to spend a lot of time with him at home.

But that was different, some Pokémon were alright with lounging around doing nothing, but Frosty loved open space, and _action_.

At least tonight he could offer her one out of two. Action was out of the question right now though, and she seemed to implicitly understand that once he’d released Coalossal. 

For his part, the rock Pokémon seemed not to want to be out at all. Gordie wasn’t surprised, Coalossal’s ball had felt cold and heavy since the incident, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t disheartening to see him like this.

It was hard to tell for sure, but it looked like he was trying to make himself smaller, as if he’d disappear if he could just manage it well enough. Unfortunately, for a nine-foot, 50-stone, living coal furnace, that wasn’t really a possibility. Though when compared to the sheer magnitude of the stadium he did seem small, like the last smouldering coals in a cold, empty hearth.

“Hey buddy.” He attempted, reaching slowly forward with an open palm.

Coalossal didn’t flinch away, but his body language was stiff… well, stiffer than Gordie had become accustomed to expecting from him, considering he was basically made of rocks.

Frosty sent a cold gust in their direction, which he could only interpret of her way of telling him to piss off. It had always amazed him that Pokémon seemed effortlessly able to pick up on how others species were feeling, while humans had to spend months or years learning how to interpret all these signals that seemed totally foreign to them.

Arceus, humans couldn’t even understand each other’s feelings most the time.

He appreciated having his little translator here right now though, and managed to make himself laugh a little at the though of dragging her along to any confusing social interaction going forward.

Maybe not, it wouldn’t do much for his image as a rock-type trainer if he had an emotional support _Frosmoth_ of all Pokémon.

But there was no one around to impart their opinion right now, and he was getting the feeling that it was going to be a long night. If Frosty wanted to help Coalossal feel comfortable, he’d take all the help he could get.

Overall, her message seemed to be ‘go slow’.

Which meant that he and Coalossal spent the next few hours basically sitting next to each other, practically unmoving, little noise other than occasional idle chatter (on his part, _obviously_ ) neither encroaching on the other's space.

Gordie supposed the pace of life for creatures made of stone was bound to be different, thinking about it. But it felt like a devastating lack of progress when he decided it was time to pack in for the night.

Though the slight warmth he felt from Coalossal’s ball afterwards seemed to suffuse through his entire body.

This had been more than worth it, he knew.

Frosty has made herself invaluable too. It meant a lot to him that she seemed to care about Coalossal too, though he'd expected little more than envy for him basically replacing her. He had room for both of them in his life. Even if he didn't, he'd _make_ room.

“Why don’t you walk… er, fly, home with me? I don’t reckon the cold bothers you all that much right?” He joked, purely for his own benefit.

She seemed to appreciate the gesture as he tucked her empty pokeball away though, if not the joke that accompanied it.

After triple-checking all of the locks, he decided to use one of the subtler side exits to try and avoid being spotted leaving (which granted, the giant seasick moth probably impeded his efforts in).

If he had been seen, it was by someone far sneakier than him, so he figured there wasn’t actually anything to worry about there.

The walk home was actually quite nice in absence of the gut-churning nerves, the few people walking the streets this time of night more distracted by the fact he was wearing shorts than actually taking stock of who he was.

Frosty was probably helping with that, always flying in range of the bulbs of the lamp posts. Which actually helped in two regards, drawing the attention of passers-by to the almost ethereal sight she made, while managing to cast the details of his own face in shadows. It probably wasn’t intentional, Frosmoths were known to be attracted to light after all, but it did make an emotional support one seem all the more tempting.

As soon as he actually reached the front door he was ready to just collapse into bed.

Except, his mother had apparently been right to worry over tea, because he was also bloody starving. Probably should have sorted that when he’d had the chance.

In his defence, he’d spent way longer than he’d expected out, and while doing an impression of a rock wasn’t exactly physically demanding, it had somehow been exhausting in a different sense. Honestly, he didn’t fancy cooking anything proper right now.

Though for two extremely busy people, he and his mother really didn’t have instant food in for times like these.

Damn responsible shopping habits.

Either way, his mother didn’t seem impressed with what he’d come up with out of the existing food.

“I don’t think cereal bars and cheesy pasta counts as dinner… I’m not _entirely_ convinced it counts as food.” She laughed.

“Oh come on, it’s got all the major food groups! Carbs, breakfast and cheese.” He joked.

“Did things go _that bad_?”

“Oi! It was alright actually. I’m making these life choices because I _want_ to.”

After that, she seemed more interested in finding out what actually happened with Coalossal than his culinary crimes, a little confused by his methods but appreciating that sometimes things with Pokémon happened at a glacial pace. (She’d understand that better than anyone, after all.)

He figured it was going to be a pretty settled, normal evening until she decided to just ambush him with the most bizarre question possible out of nowhere.

“Do you think I’m boring?”

_Honestly, what the fuck had brought this on?_

“Er, no?” He tried.

“You don’t sound sure there.”

Well, it had come so far from the left field he honestly didn’t know what to say. Sue him!

“Mom. Out of about a million words I could use to describe you, for better or worse, boring is not one of them…” He reassured. “What’s this about?”

“I was just… thinking about dinner yesterday.”

“Wait, is this about your sister again? I thought we’d established that she was full of shit.”

“It’s not that… after that whole hobbies chat it felt like everyone was just holding back from asking me what I actually _did_ with my time when I wasn’t working. And they have a point you know!”

“I mean, it’s not secret that you have… workaholic tendencies, but I really don’t think I’m in a position to start preaching about a healthy work-life balance.”

He didn’t even have five kids to contend with after work either.

“But you’ve got your gymnastics going on now, as you demonstrated earlier. It’s something, you know? I just can’t shake the feeling that I’ve got _nothing_ going on outside of Pokémon training.”

“You do your volunteering programs.”

“That’s still Pokémon training though really, isn’t it?” She pointed out. “The rest of the time it feels like I’m just glued to the settee, rotting my brain on just… _nothing_!”

“So what? Your sister goes to spin class and suddenly you should too?” He asked dryly.

His mother simply sighed in response.

“I’m not on about bloody spin classes.” She muttered. “I’m just facing up to the realisation that I’m uninteresting.”

“You’re _not!”_ He interrupted, though she carried on undeterred. At this point he figured she just had a bit of a melodramatic one on her today. 

“I can’t even blame work. All the other leaders have other stuff going for them… and Opal’s nearly 90!”

“They’re also all lazy gits with their gym duties.” Gordie pointed out.

“Don’t be rude!”

“It’s _true_ though!”

Clearly his mother was just taking the time to vent, her tone giving the impression that she was feeling a little bit sorry for herself tonight, for some reason. Though he couldn’t really judge, he’d been feeling plenty sorry for himself arguing with Kiera earlier. He supposed her bloody sister just had that effect on people.

“I’ve always been making excuses for it, for years even. First I didn’t have the money, then I didn’t have the time. Then I was always tired from work… or I told myself that if I tried to start anything else I’d end up spending _no_ time with my family.” She trailed off. 

“Well… what do you wanna do instead?”

“That’s the silly thing… I don’t even _know_ anymore.” She admitted. “I just… I felt _weird_ when my family were talking about all the stuff I used to be into, because I remember it happening, but sometimes I can’t even remember how it felt, you know?”

“Yeah. I think I do.” He admitted.

Arceus, he’d literally decided to fulfil a silly childhood fantasy today because he’d literally not once thought to do it once the entire time he’d actually been in charge of Circhester. It was like that part of him had been turned off for a while, because he was so concerned with not messing things up.

“I know I must sound ridiculous. I’m too bloody old to go ‘find myself’. I just…”

“If your mid-30s is too old for stuff, then I don’t think there’s much hope for anyone.” He pointed out.

“Hmph, maybe.” She admitted. “And maybe I’m just making excuses all over again, but without their father it feels like I don’t have that sort of safety net… _they_ need me more than I need to go hobby hunting.”

It was an awkward predicament, that was for sure. Gordie imagined that doing ‘nothing’ had been a lot more palatable for his mother when she’d been doing it by her husband’s side, the little time they actually got to spend together. That version of nothing would always be precious to her now. 

But his stepfather's parents didn’t seem to want much to do with the little ones, and they certainly weren’t close enough to his mother’s side of the family to trust them with that sort of thing… even without the geographical separation.

“You know you’ve still got me right? If you want a night off for whatever reason, I’m here.”

“Gordie, I would never! You’ve got plenty of your own stuff to worry about.”

Yeah, and she was literally lending him a major league stadium to tackle his own problems… how could she not see that his time was the least he could offer her?

“It’s why I’m here mom.” He reminded her.

“That’s what you said yesterday too.”

“Yeah, because it’s _true_.”

“Do you… do you feel like you’re not allowed to leave? Or do you actually want to stay?”

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m sorry, that probably sounded weird… it’s just the way you pair were talking about it yesterday…”

Urgh, this was the problem with people like Galia, just picking at the little seams she could see sticking out of their family. He doubted she even realised the scars she was unravelling to raw wounds in the process.

Not to mention it was the first time since he’d returned home that someone had brought the _impermanence_ of the situation into the picture.

“Of course I want to stay! Galia just made me feel awkward about it, like I was some leech-y basement dweller. I honestly don’t think I’m at the age where I should have moved out, and even if I was… we both know we lost more than just a couple of years of being a family.” 

He couldn’t change that he’d run away, and honestly he didn’t know if he _would_ even if he could… but he wanted to be there properly for the triplets as they grew up, and for Opal too even if he’d already missed most of her formative years.

“You’re not leeching Gordie, you know you’ve been a huge help… and you’re my _baby_ , you’d be welcome here without a single expectation. I just wanna make sure you wouldn’t rather be elsewhere, living on your own terms.”

Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I’m not some sort of… _bachelor_. Maybe one day I will want to set off, but leaving the region again isn’t even remotely on my agenda. If I did leave for whatever reason, I’d still be there if you needed me”

“You don’t miss the freedom?”

“I wasn’t really ever free.” He admitted. “I was just… running away, trying not to think about anything back here.”

“Are you happier here, even with all that stuff?”

_Was he?_

“Yeah.” He said, a little surprised at the truth of it.

Sure, he’d definitely hit lower lows since coming home… but even if he’d stumbled a bit to get there, he felt… _fairly good_ now. Like he had a path forward, rather than just being constantly a little bit paranoid that eventually his past would catch up to him, that he’d be caught out as some sort of fraud.

He wasn’t going to ask if she felt happier he was home… a husband for a son didn’t exactly seem like a fair trade, after all.

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes.” She admitted. “Arceus knows I haven’t been the best at noticing in the past.”

“I’m not exactly the best at verbalising my feelings.” He pointed out, not liking that she was shifting the blame of this whole conversation onto herself. “But I promise, I’m happy. I feel better than I’ve felt for ages.”

Yesterday must have shaken her more than he’d thought, all those little digs made at the expense of her parenting apparently resonating. He pulled her into a hug, doubtful he could chase away those fears, but knowing he had to at least try.

“You mention friends a lot more than you used to.” She mumbled into his shoulder. “It’s always reassuring to hear, but I’m scared that just a false sense of security. I’ve only technically even met one of them… and well, that wasn’t under the best of circumstances.”

Ah yes, the one-time failure of his pathological need to keep his parentage separate from his work, and his work separate from his leisure. Considering he’d quit running Circhester straight after, and avoided talking to Oliver for months, ‘not the best circumstances’ was a bit of an understatement.

Alright, so maybe he hadn’t addressed _all_ of his issues since coming home. But he figured a certain amount of compartmentalisation was necessary in their line of work.

“They are real people though, you get that right?” He said, pulling apart so she could see just how serious he was being about it.

She just snorted.

“I’m not accusing you of making them up!” She laughed quietly. “I just wanted to make sure they actually made you happy to be around them.”

“You make me sound like some weird kid who doesn’t know how to do friendship.” He joked.

Her silence spoke volumes… but it wasn’t exactly unfair commentary. 

“Oi. You were the one who told me I needed friends my own age in the first place… I was just taking your advice. Maybe you should take your own too.”

“And which advice is that?”

“We were literally _just_ talking about how you need a hobby.” He laughed. “And worrying doesn’t count… You know I’m fine, and that I can look after the others just fine too. If you need some time for yourself, you don’t have to feel bad about taking it.”

From the looks of her, she was putting up some sort of ridiculous internal battle, but he could see when he’d won. (Or his mother had? She was the one who’d brought it up in the first place after all.)

“Maybe.” She finally acquiesced.

That was a good enough start.

Now they just had to figure out exactly what she was into. His entire life she’d been a very… moderate, measured person. She watched TV, but wasn’t an avid fan of any shows, and was pretty much the same with books and the like. Despite her sweet tooth, she wasn’t even remotely a gourmand, and she’d never been into collecting stuff. Exploring and travel were probably out of the question too, while the little ones were still in school and she was still in work.

All they solidly had to go off was that she'd enjoyed art as a teen, though pretty much every teen liked 'angsty' or 'deep' things they thought represented them. 

On the upside, he supposed that meant that she had a mostly blank canvas to work with, and more means to follow her hobbies than most people could possibly dream of.

Maybe he’d make her try gymnastics, be the teacher instead of the student and see what happened… Or maybe not, on second thought. That seemed a little bit like a disaster waiting to happen.

The rest of evening was mostly spent with him suggesting increasingly more niche and ridiculous pursuits she should try, laughing as she tried to rationally dissect why they were bad ideas.

It wasn’t until they were both going up for the night that she managed to catch him off guard again.

“You know I’m really proud of you, right?” She asked.

“For what?”

“For everything, I know this past year has been tough on you… but you’ve grown up so much, you know?”

“Er, thanks mom.”

It was awkward that you couldn’t return the compliment to someone who was older than you without seeming like a patronising prat.

Gordie wasn’t even entirely sure if she meant compared to before, or since coming home, but his face was pink in the mirror as he went to brush his teeth. He still felt pretty childish most the time, honestly.

Hearing her say stuff like that made him want to be better though, to actually match-up with how she seemed to see him.

He had a pretty good idea where to start, thankfully. 


End file.
